  Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile— Tho' shut so close thy laughing eyes, Thy rosy lips still wear a smile And move, and breathe delicious sighs! Ah, now soft blushes tinge her cheeks And mantle o'er her neck of snow: Ah, now she murmurs, now she speaks What most I wish—and fear to know! She starts, she trembles, and she weeps! Her fair hands folded on her breast: —And now, how like a saint she sleeps! A seraph in the realms of rest! Sleep on secure! Above controul Thy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee: And may the secret of thy soul Remain within its sanctuary! S. Rogers |
|
