I watch o’er thee, to nourish and defend thee,
And count these vigils sweet, for thee, my boy.
Sleep, infant, sleep! my solace and my treasure!
Sleep on my breast, the breast which gladly bore thee!
And though thy words can give this heart no pleasure,
It loves to see thy thousand smiles come o’er thee.
Yes, thou wilt smile, young friend, when thou awakest,
Yes, thou wilt smile, to see my joyful guise;
Thy mother’s face thou never now mistakest,
And thou hast learned to look into her eyes.