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THE SLEEPERS.
BY MRS. HEMANS.
Sleep!—let thy mother's spirit bless her child,
And let thy sisters, to the dreaming land,
Greet thee with song!—each gentle voice be there
Of early fondness—each familiar face—
Only th' unkind be absent!
Oh! lightly, lightly tread!
A holy thing is sleep,
On the worn spirit shed,
And eyes that wake to weep:
A holy thing from heaven,
A gracious dewy cloud,
A covering mantle, given
The weary to enshroud.
Oh! lightly, lightly tread!
Revere the pale still brow,
The meekly-drooping head,
The long hairs willowy flow!
