PAGE 7
Shadow Children
by
“Dancing gayly, dancing gayly,
To and fro all together,
Like a family of daisies
Blown about in windy weather;
Nimble fairies, nimble fairies,
Playing pranks in the warm glow,
While I sing the nursery ditties
Childish phantoms love and know.
“Now what happens, now what happens?
One small shadow’s tumbled down:
I can see it on the carpet,
Softly rubbing its hurt crown.
No one whimpers, no one whimpers;
A brave-hearted sprite is this:
See! the others offer comfort
In a silent, shadowy kiss.
“Hush! they’re creeping; hush! they’re creeping,
Up about my rocking-chair:
I can feel their loving fingers
Clasp my neck and touch my hair.
Little shadows, little shadows,
Take me captive, hold me tight,
As they climb and cling and whisper,
‘Mother dear, good night! good night!'”
As the song ended, the real children, as well as the shadows, lovingly kissed mamma, and said “Good-night;” then went away into their rooms, said their prayers, and nestled down into their beds. Ned slept alone in the room next that which Polly and Will had; and, after lying quiet a little while, he called out softly:
“I say, Polly, are you asleep?”
“No: I’m thinking what a queer day we’ve had,” answered Polly.
“It’s been a good day, and I’m glad we tried our wish; for the shadows showed us, as well as they could, what we ought to do and be. I shan’t forget it, shall you?” said Ned.
“No: I’m much obliged for the lesson.”
“So is I,” called out Will, in a very earnest, but rather a sleepy, little voice.
“I wonder what mamma will say, when we tell her about it,” said Ned.
“And I wonder if our shadows will come back to us at midnight, and follow us as they used to do,” added Polly.
“I shall be very careful where I lead my shadow; ’cause he’s a good little one, and set me a righter zarmple than ever I did him,” said Will, and then dropped asleep.
The others agreed with him, and resolved that their shadows should not be ashamed of them. All were fast asleep; and no one but the moon saw the shadows come stealing back at midnight, and, having danced about the little beds, vanish as the clock struck twelve.