Classic Poem

When the night is still,
On the moon-lit hill
We sink in soft repose;
While the cool winds sigh,
And the rivulet nigh
In mellow music flows.
Then, as in dreams we float in light along,
Sweet round us breathes from Heaven a cradle song:
Slumber! slumber! Angels watch you nigh.
Slumber! slumber! Spirits, gathering by,
Sing their lullaby.

Hushed to slumber deep,
Softly then we sleep,
And happy is our dream:
Forms of beauty rare
Float along the air;
Their eyes how kindly beam.
Then, as we listen, harps around us play;
Gentlest of voices bid us come away:
Hither, hither, where the heavens are bright, —
Hither, hither, to this world of light, —
Hither take your flight.