Angel faces watch my pillow, angel voices haunt my sleep,
And upon the winds of midnight shining pinions round me sweep;
Floating downward on the starlight two bright infant forms I see,--
They are mine, my own bright darlings, come from Heaven to visit me.
Earthly children smile upon me, but those little ones above
Were the first to stir the fountain of a mother's deathless love,
And, as now they watch my slumber, while their soft eyes on me shine.
God forgive a mortal yearning still to call his angels mine.
Earthly children fondly call me, but no mortal voice can seem
Sweet as those that whisper "Mother!" mid the glories of my dream:
Years will pass, and earthly prattlers cease perchance to lisp my name,
But my angel babies' accents shall be evermore the same.
And the bright band now around me from their home perchance will rove,
In their strength no more depending on my constant care and love;
But my first-born still shall wander from the sky, in dreams to rest
Their soft cheeks and shining tresses on an earthly mother's breast.
Time may steal away the freshness, or some whelming grief destroy
All the hopes that erst had blossomed in my summer-time of joy;
Earthly children may forsake me, earthly friends perhaps betray,
Every tie that now unties me to this life may pass away,--
But unchanged, those angel watchers, from their blest immortal home,
Pure and fair, to cheer the sadness of my darkened dreams shall come,
And I cannot feel forsaken, for, though 'reft of earthly love,
Angel children call me "Mother!" and my soul will look above.