The tuneful seraph-host that raised their songs around the throne, Giving to God and to the Lamb the praise that is their own? Or look'st thou on the Tree of Life, whose foliage yet may heal The nations, and the earlier curse of Eden's tree repeal? Or gazest thou upon that stream, like clearest crystal bright, Proceeding from Jehovah's throne, and glorious from His light? Vain though it seems to ask or think what sights and forms divine May rise in slumber's tranquil hour on spirits pure as thine, Not wholly so, if, while he sings, within the minstrel's soul The influence of such heavenly themes may earthborn cares control. Sleep, happy dreamer! sleep in peace; and may thy mental powers By visions such as these be nursed for future waking hours: That so from death's last dreamless sleep thy spirit may ascend To know the fulness of all joy, in glory without end. LOOK ON ME WITH THY CLOUDLESS EYES. MRS. HEMANS. Look on me with thy cloudless eyes, My gentle child! The spirit of my infant prayer Shines in the depths of quiet there; And home and love once more are mine, My gentle child! Oh! heaven is with thee in thy dreams, Thy smile hath gifts from vernal skies :— My gentle child! TO A CHILD. JOANNA BAILLIE. WHOSE imp art thou, with dimpled cheek And arm and shoulders round and sleek, What boots it who with sweet caresses, Thy downcast glances, grave, but cunning, But far afield thou hast not flown, With mocks and threats, half-lisped, half spoken ; I feel thee pulling at my gown— Of right good will thy simple token. R And thou must laugh and wrestle too,— Thy after kindness more engaging : The wilding-rose-sweet as thyself,- To taste again thy youthful pleasure. But yet, for all thy merry look, Thy frisks and wiles, the time is coming, When thou shalt sit in cheerless nook, The weary spell, or horn-book thumbing. Well, let it be! through weal and woe, Thou know'st not now thy future range; Life is a motley shifting show: And thou a thing of hope and change. |