Little heads are sleeping all,
While within the darkened hall
Hang their hats upon the wall;
Like the little hives arow,
Where bee-fancies to and fro
All day long do come and go.
Some with pleasure, some with pain,
Through the sunshine and the rain,
Busy for the brooding brain.
All is quiet now and rest;
In each slumber-shaded breast
Dreams have found another nest.