Poems (Acton)/The Sleeping Monitor
THE SLEEPING MONITOR.
There lay a weary child 'Neath an old tree;In its sweet sleep it smiled, How joyfully!Bright must its dreams have been,Couched in that sylvan scene So peacefully.
One near that sheltered spot Gloomily pass'd;Fortune around his lot Rich gifts had cast;Yet did his heart declarePeace from its sojourn there Still hurried fast.
Slowly his footsteps stray By glade and hill,Where the young sleeper lay Slumbering still;Smiles on its eyelids rest,As if its guileless breast Gay visions fill.
Soft stole the stranger on, Downward he bent;Long that smooth brow upon Gazed he intent;"Oh! that such rest were mine!And to my sleep like thine Sweet dreams were sent."
Tears o'er his earnest gaze Silently start;Thoughts of forgotten days Steal round his heart;When with his day-dreams fair,Like the child sleeping there, Grief had no part.
All that the world calls great, His might be styled;Glory and high estate On him had smil'd; Yet had he falsehood found,And for its sleep profound Envied that child.
Then came the yearning thought— Would it be vain,If he with fervour sought Sweet peace to gain?How should he welcome restBack to his wearied breast Gladly again?
"Peace may once more be thine!" Hope whispered low;But in thy bosom's shrine Change must thou know.Some to thee false have seem'd,All hast thou worthless deem'd— Ah, 'tis not so!
"Scatter thou mercy's seed, Wipe tears away,Kind word and noble deed Sow while you may:Gladden the mourning one—Joy, for such mercies done, With thee shall stay."
"Sweet one! the stranger cried, "Sleep in thy dell;Peace doth thy slumbers guide As with a spell.Holy thoughts woke by thee,Never shall pass from me— God guard thee well!"H. A.