BABY ASLEEP.
Baby has gone to the land of dreams.
Hush, or you'll wake him! how still it seems!
Carefully shut the bedroom door;
Noiselessly tip-toe across the floor.
See how sweet he looks as he lies
With fringed lids shutting the dark-brown eyes;
One pink palm pressing the dimpled cheek
And his red lips parted as if to speak.
Yonder in the low rocking-chair
Is a broken plaything,—he left it there;
And there, in the corner beside the door,
Lies a motley heap of many more,—
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