There's a li'l empty closet in a li'l empty room, Where th' shadows lie like dust upon th' floor; It uster be HIS closet not s' very long ago— That's why I don't go near it any more. Every li'l hook is empty, 'ceptin' one, an' from it hangs (Th' whitest li'l ghost that ever grew In a heart that's near ter breakin' with it's agony o' grief! ) An empty flannel nightie piped with blue. Jus' a li'l flannel nightie that was shrunken in th' wash, In spots th' blue has ran inter th' white; But I've seen him in it, sleepy, when I tucked th' covers in, An' kissed him, soft, an took away th' light. Jus' a li'l flannel nightie, hangin' empty on a hook, As if it was ashamed—or in disgrace— Jus' a li'l flannel nightie an' it ain't no use no more, But I couldn't bear t' take it from its place! Jus' a li'l empty closet in a li'l empty room, Where th' shadows lie like dust upon th' floor— It uster be his closet, where I'd put his clothes away, That's why I hate ter go there any more. But I've left his li'l nightie hangin' on a single hook, I sorter had ter leave it there, I guess; Ah, that li'l empty closet in that li'l empty room Is crowded—crowded ful o' loneliness!
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