"Awake, awake, my little boy!
Thou wast thy mother's only joy;
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep?
O wake! thy father does thee keep."
—"O what land is the Land of Dreams?
What are its mountains, and what are its streams?
O father! I saw my mother there
Among the lilies by waters fair.
"Among the lambs, clothed in white,
She walk'd with her Thomas in sweet delight:
I wept for joy; like a dove I mourn:—
O when shall I again return!"
—"Dear child! I also by pleasant streams
Have wander'd all night in the Land of Dreams:—
But, though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side."
—"Father, O father! what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?—
The Land of Dreams is better far,
Above the light of the morning star."
—W. Blake
ADORATION
Sweet is the dew that falls betimes,
And drops upon the leafy limes;
Sweet Hermon's fragrant air:
Sweet is the lily's silver bell,
And sweet the wakeful tapers smell
That watch for early prayer.
Sweet the young nurse, with love intense,
Which smiles o'er sleeping innocence;
Sweet when the lost arrive;
Sweet the musician's ardor beats,
While his vague mind's in quest of sweets,
The choicest flowers to hive.
Strong is the horse upon his speed;
Strong in pursuit the rapid glede,
Which makes at once his game:
Strong the tall ostrich on the ground;
Strong through the turbulent profound
Shoots xiphias to his aim.