To see if his bright visions real are.
But what his visions are God only knoweth,
For that sweet child forgets them day by day;
Like breeze of Eden, that so gently bloweth,
They leave no trace when they've passed away.
'Tis thus that innocent childhood ever sleepeth.
With half closed eyes and smiles around its mouth,
At sight of which man's sunken heart upleapeth,
Like chilléd flowers when fanned by the sweet south.
Sleep on, sweet child, smile, as thou sleepest, brightly,