 | [Poems by Fields in] The poets of Portsmouth |  |
101
SONG IN A DREAM.
Winter rose-leaves, silver-white,
Drifting o'er our darling's bed,—
He's asleep, withdrawn from sight,—
All his little prayers are said,
And he droops his shining head.
Drifting o'er our darling's bed,—
He's asleep, withdrawn from sight,—
All his little prayers are said,
And he droops his shining head.
Winter rose-leaves, falling still,
Go and waken his sad eyes,
Touch his pillowed rest, until
He shall start with glad surprise,
And from slumber sweet arise!
Go and waken his sad eyes,
Touch his pillowed rest, until
He shall start with glad surprise,
And from slumber sweet arise!
| [Poems by Fields in] The poets of Portsmouth | |