Sleep on, baby, on the floor

Sleep on, baby on the floor,

Tired of all thy playing --

Sleep with smile the sweeter for

That you dropped away in;

On your curls' fair roundness stand

Golden lights serenely;

One cheek, pushed out by the hand,

Folds the dimple inly --

Little head and little foot

Heavy laid for pleasure;

Underneath the lids half-shut

Plants the shining azure;

Open-souled in noonday sun,

So, you lie and slumber;

Nothing evil having done,

Nothing can encumber.

I, who cannot sleep as well,

Shall I sigh to view you?

Or sigh further to foretell

All that may undo you?

Nay, keep smiling, little child,

Ere the fate appeared!

I smile, too; for patience mild

Pleasure's token weareth.

Nay, keep sleeping before loss;

I shall sleep, though losing!

As by cradle, so by cross,

Sweet is the reposing.

And God knows, who sees us twain,

Child at childish leisure,

I am all as tired of pain

As you are of pleasure.

Very soon, too, by His grace

Gently wrapt around me,

I shall show as calm a face,

I shall sleep as soundly --

Differing in this, that you

Clasp your playthings sleeping,

While my hand must drop the few

Given to my keeping --

Differing in this, that I,

Sleeping, must be colder,

And in waking presently,

Brighter to beholder --

Differing in this beside,

(Sleeper, have you heard me?

Do you move, and open wide

Your great eyes toward me?)

That while I you draw withal

From this slumber solely,

Me, from mine, an angel shall,

Trumpet-tongued and holy!