W. Blake Sweet dreams, form a shade O'er my lovely infant's head! Sweet dreams of pleasant streams By happy, silent, moony beams! Sweet sleep, with soft down Weave thy brows an infant crown! Sweet sleep, angel mild, Hover o'er my happy child! Sweet babe, in thy face Holy image I can trace; Sweet babe, once like thee Thy Maker lay, and wept for me! Wept for me, for thee, for all, When He was an Infant small. Thou His image ever see [184] , Heavenly face that smiles on thee! Smiles on thee, on me, on all, Who became an Infant small; Infant smiles like His own smile Heaven and earth to peace beguile. Footnotes: [184] ever [dost] see |
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