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POEMS.
Art dreaming now of unknown things, perchance of angels bright,
That watch around thy little bed in the long summer night?
That watch around thy little bed in the long summer night?
Thy little hands are folded, thy head sinks on my breast,
And thou movest not a muscle, thou art so sound at rest;
And thou movest not a muscle, thou art so sound at rest;
Yet ever and anon thine eyes look up with rapture wild!
As if thou knewest, darling, thou wert my first-born child!
As if thou knewest, darling, thou wert my first-born child!
And oh! how I have thought of thee and longed so for thy birth,
Although I knew how frail and weak were all things born of earth;
Although I knew how frail and weak were all things born of earth;
And God has heard my fervent prayer, has sent me so much bliss,
Can anything like mother's joy, come up to joy like this?
Can anything like mother's joy, come up to joy like this?
In the long winter evenings when it was cold and chill,
When ice was on the rivers wide and snow upon the hill,
When ice was on the rivers wide and snow upon the hill,
