CONSOLATION OB' SLEEP 
Ye know not what ye do, 
That call the slumherer back 
Erom the world unseen by you, 
Ento life’s dim faded track 
Her soul is far away. 
In her childhood’s land perchance. 
Where her young sisters play. 
Where shines her mother’s glance. 
Some old sweet native sound 
Her spirit haply weaves; 
A harmony profound 
Of woods with all their leaves; 
A murmur of the sea, 
A laughing tone of streams; 
Long may her sojourn be 
In the music-land of dreams ! 
