Poems Sigourney 1834/Picture of a Sleeping Infant, watched by a Dog

by Lydia Sigourney

PICTURE OF A SLEEPING INFANT, WATCHED BY A DOG.

Sweet are thy slumbers, baby. Gentle gales
Do lift the curtaining foliage o'er thy head,
And nested birds sing lullaby; and flowers
That form the living broidery of thy couch
Shed fresh perfume.
                                    He, too, whose guardian eye
Pondereth thy features with such true delight,
And faithful semblance of parental care;
Counting his master's darling as his own,
Should aught upon thy helpless rest intrude,
Would show a lion's wrath.
                                             And when she comes,
Thy peasant-mother, from her weary toil,
Thy shout will cheer her, and thy little arms
Entwine her sunburnt neck, with joy as full
As infancy can feel. They who recline
In royalty's proud cradle, lulled with strains
Of warbling lute, and watched by princely eyes,
And wrapt in golden tissue, share perchance,
No sleep so sweet as thine.
                                              Is it not thus
With us, the larger children? Gorgeous robes,
And all the proud appliances of wealth
Touch not the heart's content: but he is blest,
Though clad in humble garb, who peaceful greets
The smile of nature, with a soul of love.