Portland Gazette, And Maine Advertiser

Poetry.

To a Child Sleeping under a Tree.

Hail, pleasing shade; hail beauteous spreading tree;
I've come to solitude and thee
One tranquil hour—But Heaven! what strikes my eyes!
Here on the cover'd sod an infant lies!
Alarming scene! how came the cherub here?
On its fair cheek is loitering still the tear;
It sobs aloud; in fancy seems to weep—
Sure it has cried, unheard, itself to sleep.
Sleep on sweet babe! in quiet slumber rest!
Let balmy sleep compose thy troubled breast.
Sleep little angel! sleep away thy grief,
Then wake and in a stranger find relief.
Thy snowy locks I'll gently smooth aside,
Dishevelled tresses infant beauty hide;
In the soft breezes while they loosely play
I'll steal one kiss and wipe the tear away.
Sure thou hast strayed from thy fond mother's arms!
Yes; gracious Heaven protect thy infant charms:
Soft and alone, far has thy infant feet
Wandered to find this breezy calm retreat;
Through the tall grass, across the lengthened mead,
Till weary, here thou laid'st thy little head.
Sleep on, dear boy! no harm shall thee o'ertake;
Safe will I guard thee till thou dost awake.
But hark! thy half distracted mother calls;
The sound vibrates from yonder cottage walls,
This way she comes, then back again she flies;
Wild is her heaving breast, and loud the cries.
Now her affrighted fancy paints thee dead,
Where a wild herd, promiscuous grazing, tread;
Till lo! alarming fear begins to rave,
Then she consigns thee to a watery grave.
From place to place in wild disorder flies,
And fancies oft she hears thy infant cries.
Wake, lovely boy! the fast approaching night,
Will but augment thy anxious mother's fright;
Wake! let me aid thee to her tender arms;
Thy absence every feeling breast alarms;
Rise, and I'll bear thee in my arms away,
No more again across this mead to stray.