When the toys are growing weary, And the twilight gathers in; When the nursery still echoes With the children's merry din; Then unseen, unheard, unnoticed, Comes an old man up the stair, Lightly to the children passes, Lays his hand upon their hair. Softly smiles the good old Dustman; In their eyes the dust he throws, Till their little heads are falling, And their weary eyes must close. Then the Dustman very gently Takes each little dimpled hand Leads them through the sweet green shadows. Far away in Slumberland. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IDYLLS OF THE KING: GERAINT AND ENID by ALFRED TENNYSON PRAYER FOR AMERICA by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN DUMB IN JUNE by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON CAESARIAN BIRTH by PAULINE SOROKA CHADWELL SAN JUAN CAPISTRANO by ALICE CECILIA COOPER |