WHEN THE EYE OF BEAUTY CLOSES.
I
When the eye of Beauty closes,
When the weary are at rest;
When the infant's form reposes,
Lulled upon its mother's breast:
When the moonlight tips the billow,
With a wreath of silver foam;
Then I leave my sleepless pillow,
Then I think of thee and home.
II
Sleep may visit those who languish
Fading on a fevered bed;
Sleep may soothe the mourner's anguish
When a dream restores the dead:
But when Earth itself seems sleeping,
And the breathless summer sky;
Then my lonely vigils keeping,
Then I think of days gone by.
