“ Donec aspiret dies, et inclinentur umbrae.”
She doth but sleep ;— she will awake anon,1
Radiant and happy, when the night is gone ;2
Smiling to greet us at the dawn of day.3
To us, the night seems long—the slow hours creep ;4
But she—she knows not of her longer sleep,5
Nor recks at all of night, or dawn’s delay.6
We will not think of her, our child, as dead ;7
But only waiting till the word be said,8
“ Let there be light ”— and darkness be no more.9
Then, as the day breaks and the shadows flee,10
She will all rested wake, and full of glee11
Call to us, coming, as so oft before.12