Morn has lighted up the azure,

Yet our precious baby-treasure

Has not wakened from her slumbers,

And she dreams the starry numbers

All have closed their twinkling eyes,

As she sails the soft blue skies;

Sails on clouds as white as snow,

Far above the world below.

Silken ringlets, golden-brown,

From her temples rippling down,

Rest aglow upon the pillow,

While she floats dream’s joyous billow.

Now the lashes on her cheek

Tremble, as she wakes to speak;

From the pillow she is springing,

And the baby-accents ringing,

Like the song-bird’s from its bars,

“I was waking up the stars!”

Baby dear, so sweetly dreaming,

All the world so guileless seeming;

We’re the stars that need awaking;

’Tis our slumber that needs breaking.

Life’s short day is almost done;

Wake us for the setting sun.