Ambarvalia/Burbidge/On a Child Asleep

by Thomas Burbidge

ON A CHILD ASLEEP.

Lord bless him in his holiness!
—The quiet night is over all,
Upon the darkened air I guess
His happy lips they rise and fall;
Stirred by the breath that loves in play
Those rosy gates to swing apart,
Or waving with the motions gay
Of dreams that flutter round his heart.

What makes his dreams? O cavern sweet,
Thou silent heart of him I love,
Unfold for once that still retreat,
And through the shade let Fancy rove!
—A footless creature, borne by wings,
She enters: silent she came forth,
Silent and grave; but hark, she sings
Now she is farther from the earth!