Classic Poem

Sleep , dear one, in thy lowly bed,—
We strew thy grave with flowers,
Yet know that happier dawns shall shed
Such brightness round thy infant head,
As never gladden'd ours!

Not long thy sleep!—a summer night,
And then the eternal day,
All joy;—for sin hath brought no blight
To check thy free and happy flight
To bowers where all is gay.

Gay in the sinless thought, and dear
With pure delights, that grow
Still, in the eternal sunshine there,
To music, such as mortal sphere
May dream, but never know!

Already, on thy infant face,
The soft repose would seem
To shadow forth the dawning grace
Of an ethereal hope and place,
Heaven's opening gates and gleam.

Ah! happier thus, and vain the tears
That vex thy sweet repose;
Why should thy hopes awake our fears,
Thy growing glories prompt our cares,
Thy raptures move our woes?

Thou'st 'scaped the cell—hast broke the chain,
Already wear'st thy wings;
Wilt never feel the grief again,
Wilt never know the guilt, the pain,
That vex all mortal things!

Already, at heaven's gate, with songs—
Thy angel gift at birth—
Proclaim'st to glad and greeting throngs,
Thy freedom from the woes and wrongs
That gloom'd thy home on earth!

That gloom it still to guardian eyes,—
That move their tears,—that wrest
From the strong bosom of man the sighs,
And wring with woe the soul that lies
Deep down in woman's breast.

Yet why the woe? For thee? And thou,
Afar and joyous!—Shame!—
Wouldst bring thee back, thus heavenward now,
To pangs of heart, to clouds of brow,
Long sorrows, strifes and blame!

Why heart so sad? fond eyes why weep?
Cease mourners! Would ye wake
This little dreamer from the sleep,
That seems so beautiful and deep,
His weary eyelids take?