Sleep on, and dream of heaven a while,
Though 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 to her neck of snow!
Ah! now she murmurs, now she speaks,
What most I wish, yet 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 heav'n and thee;
And may the secrets of thy soul
Be held in reverence by me.