A Child Asleep

How he sleepeth! having drunken

Weary childhoods mandragore,

From his pretty eyes have sunken

Pleasures, to make room for more---

Sleeping near the withered nosegay, which he pulled the day before.

Nosegays! leave them for the waking:

Throw them earthward where they grew.

Dim are such, beside the breaking

Amaranths he looks unto---

Folded eyes see brighter colours than the open ever do.

Heaven-flowers, rayed by shadows golden

From the paths they sprang beneath,

Now perhaps divinely holden,

Swing against him in a wreath---

We may think so from the quickening of his bloom and of his breath.

Vision unto vision calleth,

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