Classic Poem

Fast, fast asleep my Edith lies,
With her snowy night-dress on;
Closed are now her sparkling eyes;
All her merry thoughts are gone.
Gone! ah no! perhaps she dreams;
Perhaps she views the crystal streams,
Wanders in the grove and field,—
What hath sleep to her revealed?

Bat and owl enjoy the night;
All the stars are sweetly twinkling;
While the Moon doth shed her light
On the brooklet gently tinkling:
Perhaps for her the Sun doth shine;
Perhaps she pulls the king-cups fine;
Merry birds around her singing,
Now she hears the echoes ringing!

Perhaps she bends beside the river,
Plucks aurelian's yellow globe,
Sees the willows wave and quiver;
Ah! she wets her fairy robe!
Where the water lilies float
Perhaps she guides the skimming boat,
Now the tender petals crushing,
Now the reedy thicket brushing.

Perhaps along the devious dell
She in fancy now may ramble,
Seeking moss or budding bell
Underneath the gorse and bramble.
Perhaps she's playing with the fawn
Up and down the grassy lawn;
Or with little lambkins skipping,
Or along the birch-grove tripping.

Perhaps she gazes on the pool
'Neath the rock's black shadow lying;
From the mountain's summit cool
Silvery distant lakes descrying.
Perhaps adown the rugged steeps
With the dancing rill she leaps;
See, her cheek begins to flush;
O, she's waking! hush! hush! hush!