Classic Poem

Awake not, belov'd! be thy slumber as light
As virtue e'er shed o'er a bosom at rest;
While the world and its tumults are shut from thy sight,
May the visions that rise to thy fancy be blest!

The leaves of the bower above thee are still,
Lest their rustling should wake thee from balmy repose;
And even the voice of yon murmuring rill
Seems softer, and sweeter, as near thee it flows.

There's a smile on thy lip, on thy cheek there's a flush,
Disclosing how happy thy slumber must be;
And I too were blest, could I deem that that blush
And that smile were awaken'd by memory of me!