To seal one's censure with a kiss!
Again I lay in slumber's snare,
A tiny, tinkling, tuneful air—
His crib companion every night;
While waiting for the lagging light.
Those tingling pricks of sound unrolled;
His lonely little heart consoled.
(Its only tune) shrilled sweet and faint.
In vigil gay, without complaint.
The leaping air that was his bliss;