Poem by Eugene Field

The Sleeping Child

My baby slept—how calm his rest,
  As o'er his handsome face a smile
  Like that of angel flitted, while
He lay so still upon my breast!

My baby slept—his baby head
  Lay all unkiss'd 'neath pall and shroud:
  I did not weep or cry aloud—
I only wished I, too, were dead!

My baby sleeps—a tiny mound,
  All covered by the little flowers,
  Woos me in all my waking hours,
Down in the quiet burying-ground.

And when I sleep I seem to be
  With baby in another land—
  I take his little baby hand—
He smiles and sings sweet songs to me.

Sleep on, O baby, while I keep
  My vigils till this day be passed!
  Then shall I, too, lie down at last,
And with my baby darling sleep.

1. “The Old Homestead”
2. The Convalescent Gripster
3. Clare Market
4. A Paraphrase of Heine
5. A Dream of Sunshine

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