Mary Russell Mitford - To My Mother Sleeping

Posted by Autumn in

Sleep on, my mother! sweet and innocent dreams
Attend thee, best and dearest! Dreams that gild
Life's clouds like setting suns, with pleasures filled
And saintly joy, such as thy mind beseems,
Thy mind where never stormy passion gleams,
Where their soft nest the dove-like virtues build;
And calmest thoughts, like violets distilled,
Their fragrance mingle with bright wisdom's beams.

Sleep on, my mother! not the lily's bell
So sweet; not the enamoured west-wind's sighs
That shake the dew-drop from her snowy cell
So gentle; not that dew-drop ere it flies
So pure. Even slumber loves with thee to dwell,
O model most beloved of good and wise.

This entry was posted on 24 July 2008 at 01:51 and is filed under . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .


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