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Louisa May Alcott - Our Little Ghost
Work rating: Medium

Oft, in the silence of the night, 
   When the lonely moon rides high, 
When wintry winds are whistling, 
   And we hear the owl`s shrill cry, 
In the quiet, dusky chamber, 
   By the flickering firelight, 
Rising up between two sleepers, 
   Comes a spirit all in white. 

A winsome little ghost it is, 
   Rosy-cheeked, and bright of eye; 
With yellow curls all breaking loose 
   From the small cap pushed awry. 
Up it climbs among the pillows, 
   For the "big dark" brings no dread, 
And a baby`s boundless fancy 
   Makes a kingdom of a bed. 

A fearless little ghost it is; 
   Safe the night seems as the day; 
The moon is but a gentle face, 
   And the sighing winds are gay. 
The solitude is full of friends, 
   And the hour brings no regrets; 
For, in this happy little soul, 
   Shines a sun that never sets. 

A merry little ghost it is, 
   Dancing gayly by itself, 
On the flowery counterpane, 
   Like a tricksy household elf; 
Nodding to the fitful shadows, 
   As they flicker on the wall; 
Talking to familiar pictures, 
   Mimicking the owl`s shrill call. 

A thoughtful little ghost if is; 
   And, when lonely gambols tire, 
With chubby hands on chubby knees, 
   It sits winking at the fire. 
Fancies innocent and lovely 
   Shine before those baby-eyes, — 
Endless fields of dandelions, 
   Brooks, and birds, and butterflies. 

A loving little ghost it is: 
   When crept into its nest, 
Its hand on father`s shoulder laid, 
   Its head on mother`s breast, 
It watches each familiar face, 
   With a tranquil, trusting eye; 
And, like a sleepy little bird, 
   Sings its own soft lullaby. 

Then those who feigned to sleep before, 
   Lest baby play till dawn, 
Wake and watch their folded flower — 
   Little rose without a thorn. 
And, in the silence of the night, 
   The hearts that love it most 
Pray tenderly above its sleep, 
   "God bless our little ghost!"
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