MAMMA, at night, puts out my light, And leaves me in my bed; Then dreadful things with peaked wings, Go sailing round my head. I can espy a horrid eye That looks right through the sheet. Mamma tells me I only see The lamp upon the street. She says that guardian angels fair, With little children stay; But, when her step dies on the stair, I hear them go away. So, if God means to be good To little children in the night, I wish He'd leave — of course He could — My own mamma — and light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAVALIER TUNES: BOOT AND SADDLE by ROBERT BROWNING ON THE DEATH OF MR. PURCELL by JOHN DRYDEN A SKETCH by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE DEAD OF THE WILDERNESS by CHAIM NACHMAN BIALIK TO EVENING by SAMUEL EGERTON BRYDGES |