 | Household Verses |  |
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A CHILD'S DREAM.
What know we of the glorious sights
Which bless an infant's dream?
Or, could we guess them, what more meet
To be a poet's theme?
The hope that e'en a glimpse of such
My numbers might make known,
To fond imagination brings
A day-dream of its own.
Which bless an infant's dream?
Or, could we guess them, what more meet
To be a poet's theme?
The hope that e'en a glimpse of such
My numbers might make known,
To fond imagination brings
A day-dream of its own.
'Tis of a child of five years old,
Upon whose peaceful sleep
Fair visions of another world
With silent footsteps creep;
Soft as the dew on summer flowers,
Or moonlight on the sea,
The influence of that blissful dream
To Fancy seems to be.
Upon whose peaceful sleep
Fair visions of another world
With silent footsteps creep;
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Or moonlight on the sea,
The influence of that blissful dream
To Fancy seems to be.
The cheek, upon the pillow pressed,
Wears joy's delightful tinge:
The eyes are closed, yet joy's bright tear
Steals through the eyelid's fringe:
The lips are voiceless, yet they wear
The sweetest smile of bliss,
A smile so sweet, it well might chide
The fondest mother's kiss.
Wears joy's delightful tinge:
The eyes are closed, yet joy's bright tear
Steals through the eyelid's fringe:
The lips are voiceless, yet they wear
The sweetest smile of bliss,
A smile so sweet, it well might chide
The fondest mother's kiss.
Thou happy sleeper! might I tell
Where now thy spirit roams,
The lot it shares, how poor would seem
The pomp of proudest domes!
Fame, wealth, or grandeur never yet
A pleasure could impart,
So pangless and so pure as those
Which now possess thy heart.
Where now thy spirit roams,
The lot it shares, how poor would seem
The pomp of proudest domes!
Fame, wealth, or grandeur never yet
A pleasure could impart,
So pangless and so pure as those
Which now possess thy heart.
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For thou art in “the land of thought!”
And far hast left behind
The fading happiness of earth,
For raptures more refined:
Thine seems a foretaste of the boon
Appointed for the blest;
“Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest!”
And far hast left behind
The fading happiness of earth,
For raptures more refined:
Thine seems a foretaste of the boon
Appointed for the blest;
“Where the wicked cease from troubling,
And the weary are at rest!”
Thy spirit's yet unfolded bud
May seem too young to bear
The full effulgence of that light
Which bursts around thee there;
Thy “vital spark of heavenly flame”
May shine with trembling ray,
Amid the bright and sunless blaze
Of heaven's unclouded day.
May seem too young to bear
The full effulgence of that light
Which bursts around thee there;
Thy “vital spark of heavenly flame”
May shine with trembling ray,
Amid the bright and sunless blaze
Of heaven's unclouded day.
Yet, in thy measure, fancy deems
Thy soul may now partake
Those glories, which the harps and songs
Of angels ever wake;
And to thy sight, unconsciously,
Are transient glimpses given,
Whose bright beatitudes fulfil
A child's sweet dream of heaven!
Thy soul may now partake
Those glories, which the harps and songs
Of angels ever wake;
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Are transient glimpses given,
Whose bright beatitudes fulfil
A child's sweet dream of heaven!
And is it not a lovely scene
That greets thy vision now?
Where gratitude warms every breast,
And joy lights every brow!
Where tears are wiped from every eye,
And sickness comes not near,
And hope in certainty fulfilled
Has banished every fear!
That greets thy vision now?
Where gratitude warms every breast,
And joy lights every brow!
Where tears are wiped from every eye,
And sickness comes not near,
And hope in certainty fulfilled
Has banished every fear!
What seest thou in that realm sublime?
The spirits of the just,
Made perfect through the blood of Him,
In whom they placed their trust?
The tuneful seraph host, that raise
Their songs around the throne,
Giving to God, and to the Lamb,
The praise that is their own?
The spirits of the just,
Made perfect through the blood of Him,
In whom they placed their trust?
The tuneful seraph host, that raise
Their songs around the throne,
Giving to God, and to the Lamb,
The praise that is their own?
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Or look'st thou on the Tree of Life
Whose foliage yet may heal
The nations—and the earlier curse
Of Eden's tree repeal?
Or gazest thou upon that stream,
Like clearest crystal bright,
Proceeding from Jehovah's throne,
And glorious from His light?
Whose foliage yet may heal
The nations—and the earlier curse
Of Eden's tree repeal?
Or gazest thou upon that stream,
Like clearest crystal bright,
Proceeding from Jehovah's throne,
And glorious from His light?
Vain though it seem to ask or think
What sights and sounds divine,
May rise in slumber's tranquil hour
On spirits pure as thine;
Not wholly so, if, while he sings,
Within the minstrel's soul,
The influence of such heavenly themes
May earth-born cares control.
What sights and sounds divine,
May rise in slumber's tranquil hour
On spirits pure as thine;
Not wholly so, if, while he sings,
Within the minstrel's soul,
The influence of such heavenly themes
May earth-born cares control.
Sleep, happy dreamer! sleep in peace,
And may thy mental powers
By visions such as these be nursed
For future waking hours;
That so, from death's last dreamless sleep,
Thy spirit may ascend,
To know the fulness of all joy,
In glory without end!
And may thy mental powers
By visions such as these be nursed
For future waking hours;
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Thy spirit may ascend,
To know the fulness of all joy,
In glory without end!
A POSTSCRIPT.
“No child,” some critic may perchance
exclaim,
“Would dream like this; or dream of heaven at all!”
And how knowest thou, despite thy critic fame,
What heavenly dreams on childhood's slumbers fall?
“Would dream like this; or dream of heaven at all!”
And how knowest thou, despite thy critic fame,
What heavenly dreams on childhood's slumbers fall?
One wiser far than thou, who cannot
err
In aught of heaven or heavenly things disclosed,
Of guileless hearts the best interpreter,
Hath said—of such that kingdom is composed!
In aught of heaven or heavenly things disclosed,
Of guileless hearts the best interpreter,
Hath said—of such that kingdom is composed!
Unlearn thy worldly wisdom; be no more
By self-conceit presumptuously beguiled;
But rather study that sweet, lowlier lore,
Which makes its learner as a little child!
By self-conceit presumptuously beguiled;
But rather study that sweet, lowlier lore,
Which makes its learner as a little child!
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