 | A New Year's Eve, and Other Poems |  |
97
ON A PICTURE OF A SLEEPING CHILD.
How beautiful is sleep!
The peasant boy who, folded in his plaid,
Kept watch beside his sheep,
Seems lovelier in its silent beauty clad.
The peasant boy who, folded in his plaid,
Kept watch beside his sheep,
Seems lovelier in its silent beauty clad.
The warrior in his tent,
From fancied glory by its spell beguiled,
Looks calmly innocent,
As when he was a happy, gentle child.
From fancied glory by its spell beguiled,
Looks calmly innocent,
As when he was a happy, gentle child.
The brow of hoary Age,
Pain's pallid cheek, and Sorrow's sunken eye,
E'en the curled lip of Rage,
Confess by turns its magic mastery.
Pain's pallid cheek, and Sorrow's sunken eye,
E'en the curled lip of Rage,
Confess by turns its magic mastery.
98
But softest falls its dew
On childhood's brow and cheek; whether they wear
The rose's healthier hue,
Or early sickness plant the lily there.
On childhood's brow and cheek; whether they wear
The rose's healthier hue,
Or early sickness plant the lily there.
How beautiful is sleep!
Yet if its purest beauties thou wouldst feel,
On the babe's slumber creep,
And bid thy heart confess its mute appeal.
Yet if its purest beauties thou wouldst feel,
On the babe's slumber creep,
And bid thy heart confess its mute appeal.
Or to this picture turn
But for a moment thy attentive eye;
And let thy spirit learn
The pleading charm of slumbering infancy.
But for a moment thy attentive eye;
And let thy spirit learn
The pleading charm of slumbering infancy.
In breathless silence stand,
As by the timid turtle's downy nest;
See, on its tiny hand
Its little cheek in placid stillness prest!
As by the timid turtle's downy nest;
See, on its tiny hand
Its little cheek in placid stillness prest!
99
Mark what a helpless charm
Is shed o'er every feature, every limb!
Behold that lovely arm;
That smiling mouth;—and if those eyes be dim,
Is shed o'er every feature, every limb!
Behold that lovely arm;
That smiling mouth;—and if those eyes be dim,
Quenching their brighter flashes
Beneath those veiny lids! a softer spell
Upon their silken lashes
In quiet innocence appears to dwell.
Beneath those veiny lids! a softer spell
Upon their silken lashes
In quiet innocence appears to dwell.
Yet sleep is awful, too,
So like to death's its features it can dress;—
Meek slumberer! while I view
Thine own, I deeply feel its awfulness.
So like to death's its features it can dress;—
Meek slumberer! while I view
Thine own, I deeply feel its awfulness.
But unappalling seems
Even the awfulness of sleep like thine,
As fraught with heavenly dreams,
And images less earthly than divine.
Even the awfulness of sleep like thine,
As fraught with heavenly dreams,
And images less earthly than divine.
100
Or dost thou now partake
That dreamless trance, in love and mercy given,
With sweet surprise to wake
A bright and blissful denizen of Heaven?
That dreamless trance, in love and mercy given,
With sweet surprise to wake
A bright and blissful denizen of Heaven?
| A New Year's Eve, and Other Poems | |