Classic Poem

  Ja. I THOUGHT I heard my husband's footstep? No.
  Girl . 'Twas but a deer crossing the path.
  Ja. You 're right;
My wish outran my judgment. Come,—a song:
My heart is painful, and I cannot sleep.
A song! Let it be soft, yet nowise sad;
Some air that floats upon the edge of silence,
But enters not its bound. The world 's at rest!
Why cannot I (poor watcher) lose my pains
In sweet oblivion, like the happy world?
  Girl . What shall I sing, madam?
  Ja. Whate'er you will;
Some verse you love, girl.—Well, if I must choose,
Let it be some such old sweet household song,
As a mother, rocking her sick child to rest,
Sings thro' the night. Or,—if you will,—recount
How all wild thoughts and cares of feverish life
Find refuge at last in sleep. See! day is past,
And night already here.

(Music.)

Girl (sings). Day is over; Night is here:
Closéd are the eye and ear
In sleep, in sleep!
Pain is silent; Toil reposes:
Love is hid amongst his roses:
Let the murmuring Music creep
Into silence, and remain
Till the morning smiles again!
Neither moan, nor weep:
Dreams, and all the race of Fear,
Fade away, and disappear
In the deepest deep!
 Ja. Thanks, little one: You have a voice might grieve
The nightingale, could she but hear you sing.
Or,—was 't the theme? Soft, gentlest, friendly Sleep!
Sweet holiday! Of all earth's good the help,—
Or origin: thyself a midnight Hymn,
Which weary Nature, when her work is done,
Breathes to the God of all!