The father in tears is seeking relief,
The mother is sleeping, worn out with her grief.
In her slumbers she sees the face of her child,
Bending over her pillow; and sweetly he smiled.
She awakes, crying fondly, “My dear one, my own!”
But alas! with her waking the vision had flown.
She thought it a dream—tho’ the vision was true;
And, putting it from her, as poor mortals do,
She moaned in her anguish, “Oh, would I could be
Thus dreaming forever, my dear one, of thee!”