To woo the wondrous child;
But all in vain his ardent strain,—
Death may not be beguiled.
Sleep, Darling, sleep; we will not weep,
Nor moan or murmur make;
But oh! how deep the dreamless sleep,—
Would God she might awake!
Asleep? awake! the Shepherd takes
His little lamb above;
And where she wakes the morning breaks