Verse > Anthologies > Hunt and Lee, eds. > The Book of the Sonnet
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Hunt and Lee, comps.  The Book of the Sonnet.  1867.
 
III. To a Sleeping Child (I.)
By Thomas Hood (1799–1845)
 
O, ’T IS a touching thing to make one weep,—
A tender infant with its curtained eye,
Breathing as it would neither live nor die,
With that unchanging countenance of sleep!
As if its silent dream, serene and deep,        5
Had lined its slumber with a still blue sky,
So that the passive cheeks unconscious lie
With no more life than roses,—just to keep
The blushes warm, and the mild, odorous breath.
O blossom boy! so calm is thy repose,        10
So sweet a compromise of life and death,
’T is pity those fair buds should e’er unclose
For memory to stain their inward leaf,
Tinging thy dreams with unacquainted grief.
 
 
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