"Who is sitting in that empty chair?" (-Eugene Ormandy)

And in a chair well-known

My mother sat and did not tire

With reading all alone.

If I should make the slightest sound

To show that I’m awake,

She’d rise, and lap the blankets round,

My pillow softly shake;

Kiss me and turn my face to see

The shadows on the wall,

And then sing Rousseau’s Dream to me

Til fast asleep I fall.

(-William Allingham)