Baby Charley
He’s fast asleep. See how, O Wife, Night’s finger on the lip of life Bids whist the tongue, so prattle-rife, Of busy Baby Charley. One arm stretched backward round his head, Five little toes from out the bed Just showing, like five rosebuds red, – So slumbers Baby Charley. Heaven-lights, I know, are beaming through [...]
Read More