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!