Poem : Half-waking

Poet : William Allingham

   I thought it was the little bed 
       I slept in long ago; 
   A straight white curtain at the head, 
       And two smooth knobs below. 
   I thought I saw the nursery fire, 
       And in a chair well-known 
   My mother sat, and did not tire 
       With reading all alone. 
   If I should make the slightest sound 
       To show that I'm awake, 
   She'd rise, and lap the blankets round, 
       My pillow softly shake; 
   Kiss me, and turn my face to see 
       The shadows on the wall, 
   And then sing Rousseau's Dream to me, 
       Till fast asleep I fall. 
   But this is not my little bed; 
       That time is far away; 
   With strangers now I live instead, 
       From dreary day to day.