TWO MORNINGS.
Reading edition
STEP softly; the baby sleeps; Drop the curtains, and close the door; Baby sleeps, while mother weeps— Sleeps, never to waken more. Not a breath disturbs his repose; The blossom he wears has forgotten to blow. Once his two cheeks were red as a rose; Now they are lilies, you know. Morning will come, with its sweet surprise, Waken the flowers, and scatter the dew; But never again shall the baby’s eyes Watch the sunbeams break through. Yet in heaven his morning is growing To fairer dawning than ours has known— A fountain of light forever flowing Forth from the great white throne.
