Classic Poem

A LITTLE child white-robed for sleep
Is lying with upturned eyes;
The mother is singing; the moon looks in,
The little one dreamily cries:

“Come nearer, nearer me, great moon,
And make me just as bright
As the angels, mother sings about,
Are, up with God to-night.”

A little child white-robed for sleep
Is lying with closèd eyes;
The mother is weeping; the moon looks in
On her who will never arise.

Nearer the great moon seems to come,
Wrapping her in its light,—
Ay, brighter than moon or star, in Heaven
She shines with God to-night.