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For o'er thy features, all the while,
Well pleas'd I see a placid smile;
And though thy soft blue eye is hid,
Beneath its darkly fringed lid,
Still I its brilliant glances trace,
And each expression of thy face.
Thy lovely cheeks like roses glow,
Upon a bed of drifted snow;
Thy curling locks, as amber bright,
Shade thy dear forehead's spotless white.
Sleep, dearest! sleep, in quiet slumber blest,
While thy fond mother watches o'er thy rest.