C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
Good-Night, Babbette
By Henry Austin Dobson (18401921)
S
B
So loud, he won’t be well for weeks!
April!… Ville-d’ Avray!… Ma’m’selle R
Was the place growing green, B
And then the sky so blue!—so blue!
And when I dropped my immortelle,
How the birds sang!
She was an angel, verily.
Sometimes I think I see her yet
Stand smiling by the cabinet;
And once, I know, she peeped and laughed
Betwixt the curtains….
Where’s the draught?
Now I shall sleep, I think, B
Sing me your Norman chansonnette.
(Ere I was dead),
Angels all glorious
Came to my bed;—
Angels in blue and white,
Crowned on the head.”
What! was I dreaming?
Where’s the draught?
I am so old! But sing, B
Stark in the Snow;
One was the Wife that died
Long,—long ago;
One was the Love I lost—
How could she know?”
And R
Wistful and mild;
One had my Father’s face;
One was a Child:
All of them bent to me,—
Bent down and smiled!”
[He is asleep!]
I am so old!… Good-night, B