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Poem	He's fast asleep. See how, O Wife, Night's finger on the lip of life Bids whist the tongue, so prattle-rife, Of busy Baby Charley. One arm stretched backward round his head, Five little toes from out the bed Just showing, like five rosebuds red, -- So slumbers Baby Charley. Heaven-lights, I know, are beaming through Those lucent eyelids, veined with blue, That shut away from mortal view Large eyes of Baby Charley. O sweet Sleep-Angel, throned now On the round glory of his brow, Wave thy wing and waft my vow Breathed over Baby Charley. I vow that my heart, when death is nigh, Shall never shiver with a sigh For act of hand or tongue or eye That wronged my Baby Charley!
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