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What happy dreams, fair child, are given

To cast their sunshine o'er thee?

What cord unites that soul to Heaven:

What visions glide before thee? -
For wandering smiles of cloudless mirth

O'er thy glad features beaming,
Say, not a thought, a form of earth

Alloys thine hour of dreaming.

Mayhap, afar on viewless wings

Thy sinless spirit soaring,
Now hears the burst from golden strings

Where angels are adoring;
And with the pure heliacal throng,

Around their Maker praising,
Thy joyous heart may join the song

Ten thousand tongues are raising !

Sleep, lovely babe! - for time's cold touch

Will make these visions wither; – Youth, and the dreams that charm so much,

Shall fade and fly together.

Then, sleep, - while sleep is pure and mild,

Ere earthly ties grow stronger, When thou shalt be no more a child,

And dream of Heaven no longer.



And nature still unfolds the tissue,

Of works unseen, by spirit wrought; And not a work but hath its issue

With blessings or with evil fraught.

Thou now may'st seem to leave behind thee

All memory of the sinful past;
Yet, oh! be sure, thy sin shall find thee,

And thou shalt know its fruits at last.



Saw ye the mourner, reclining

Where the damp earth was her bed, Where the young ivy-vines twining,

Mantled the house of the dead ?

Heard ye the voice of the weeper

Rise with the herald of day, Calling aloud to the sleeper,

Bidding him hasten away?

Felt ye her wild notes of sorrow

Thrilling the bosom to pain?

Dark is the wanderer's morrow,

Soon she'll be sleeping again. Dim is her life's glimmering taper ;

Fast is she sinking to rest ! Soon will the chill evening vapor

Gather, unfelt, o'er her breast.

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