<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416823" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Old Trundle-Bed</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">O the old trundle-bed where I slept when a boy!<br>What canopied king might not covet the joy?<br>The glory and peace of that slumber of mine,<br>Like a long, gracious rest in the bosom divine:<br>The quaint, homely couch, hidden close from the light,<br>But daintily drawn from its hiding at night.<br>O a nest of delight, from the foot to the head,<br>Was the queer little, clear little, old trundle-bed!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O the old trundle-bed, where I wondering saw<br>The stars through the window, and listened with awe<br>To the sigh of the winds as they tremblingly crept<br>Through the trees where the robin so restlessly slept:<br>Where I heard the low, murmurous chirp of the wren,<br>And the katydid listlessly chirrup again,<br>Till my fancies grew faint and were drowsily led<br>Through the maze of the dreams of the old trundle bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O the old trundle-bed! O the old trundle-bed!<br>With its plump little pillow, and old-fashioned spread;<br>Its snowy-white sheets, and the blankets above,<br>Smoothed down and tucked round with the touches of love;<br>The voice of my mother to lull me to sleep<br>With the old fairy-stories my memories keep<br>Still fresh as the lilies that bloom o'er the head<br>Once bowed o'er my own in the old trundle-bed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Whitcomb+Riley">James Whitcomb Riley</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416823" data-title="The Old Trundle-Bed de James Whitcomb Riley" data-description="O the old trundle-bed where I slept when a boy! What canopied king might not covet the joy? The glory and peace of that slumber of mine, Like a long, gracious rest in the bosom divine: The quaint, homely couch, hidden close from the light, But dai..."></div> </div> </div>

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