Sleeper’s Countenance Contemplated

There smiles methinks
A cherished dream, that lies upon her lips
As the word love deep written in a rose,
With which the story of our youth begins.
Could’st thou but see whose image so delights her!

Her thoughts are far from us in early childhood:
For ’tis our wont to dream of distant friends
And half-forgotten times.


[Kelsall, 1851]