Song in a Dream

WINTER rose-leaves, silver-white,
Drifting o’er our darling’s bed,—
He’s asleep, withdrawn from sight, —
All his little prayers are said,
And he droops his shining head.
Winter rose-leaves, falling still,
Go and waken his sad eyes,
Touch his pillowed rest, until
He shall start with glad surprise,
And from slumber sweet arise !