In the dusky court,
Near the altar laid,
Sleeps the child in shadow,
Of his mother's bed:
Softly he reposes,
And his lids of roses.
Closed to earth, uncloses
On the heaven o'erhead.

Many a dream is with him,
Fresh from the fairy land,
Spangled o'er with diamonds
Seems the ocean sand;
Suns are gleaming there.
Troops of ladies fair
Souls of infants bear
In their charming hand.

O, enchanting vision,
Lo, a rill up-springs,
And, from out its bosom
Comes a voice that sings.
Lovelier there appear
Sire and sisters dear,
While his mother near,
Plumes her new-born wings.

But a brighter vision
Yet his eyes behold;