The Little Boy, The Wind, And The Rain

Sometimes, when I'm gone to-bed, And it's all dark in the room, Seems I hear somebody tread Heavy, rustling through the gloom: And then something there goes 'boom,' Stumbling on the floor o'erhead; And I cover eyes and ears: Never dare to once look out, But just cry till mother hears, Says there's naught to cry about: 'Old Mis' Wind is at her capers. Shut your eyes and go to sleep. She has got among those papers, In the attic, with her sweep. Shut your eyes and go to sleep.' II. Sometimes when the lamplight's flame Flickers, fingers tap the pane; Knuckled fingers, just the same, Rapping with long nails again: Bony hands then seem to strain, Pulling at the window-frame: And I cry, 'Who's there?' And then Sit bolt up in bed and call Till my father drops his pen, Saying to me from the hall: 'Old Man Rain is at his nonsense. Close your eyes and go to sleep. Makes a lot of noise. My conscience! What a fuss his fingers keep! Close your eyes and go to sleep.'