MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 147 Now gently I withdraw my arm, Fearful thy quiet sleep of breaking; Thou giv'st no token of alarm, And pleas'd I? see thee not awaking; The taper shaded with my hand, Gazing on thee awhile I stand. How beautiful in his repose ! The long dark lash the white lid fringing, The rich hair clustering on his brows, And the blue vein his forehead tinging. What childish innocence display'd, Ev'n in that hand so careless laid ! When to my own near conch I steal, I'll listen still to hear thee breathing, 'Till with that lullaby I feel Sleep's dewy mantle o'er me wreathing: How sweet the sound, how welcome--dear, Which tells me what I love is near ! But first, ere I can calm recline, In silent praye ! I kneel beside thee, And su? each blessing may be thine, Long forfeited, or still denied me. Now one last kiss, with caution given, And I resign my watch to Heaven.
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