by R.B. Harlock.
Originally published in The Novel Magazine (C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd.) vol.3 #13 (Apr 1906).
When the firelight flickers brightly,
Casting shadows all around,
Who is that who comes on tip-toe,
Creeping up with scarce a sound?
Whose small fingers, soft caressing,
Steal around my old arm-chair?
Whose sweet voice calls from the darkness:
"Tell me, Daddy dear, who's there?"
Who is that so eager always,
For a fairy tale or rhyme;
Never tired of gnomes and giants
Till the warning quarters chime?
Who then pleads a few more moments,
As the fatal hour draws near,
Begging with such sweet persistence;
"One more story, Daddy dear?"
Who is that who, tired and sleepy,
Curls all ruffled, cheeks aglow;
Lingers still, with goblin fairies,
Eager all their ways to know?
Who is that whom strong arms carry,
Feeling scarce the burden light;
Who is that who whispers softly:
"Kiss me, Daddy dear, good night?"
Who is that so snugly lying,
In her little snow-white bed;
Far away in Dreamland roaming,
By the fairy princes led?
Who is that who smiles so sweetly,
At some gorgeous elfin scene?
Who, but someone's priceless treasure—
Daddy's little Baby Queen.