XXIV
Going
On such a night, or such a night,Would anybody careIf such a little figureSlipped quiet from its chair,
So quiet, oh, how quiet!That nobody might knowBut that the little figureRocked softer, to and fro?
On such a dawn, or such a dawn,Would anybody sighThat such a little figureToo sound asleep did lie
For chanticleer to wake it,—Or stirring house below,Or giddy bird in orchard,Or early task to do?
There was a little figure plumpFor every little knoll,Busy needles, and spools of thread,And trudging feet from school.
Playmates, and holidays, and nuts,And visions vast and small.Strange that the feet so precious chargedShould reach so small a goal!