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Sporting upon his cheek of rose 
Like a ripple waked from its light repose, 
On a streamlet’s breast when the soft wind blows. 
—And the Angel passed from the sleeping one, 
For his mission to Earth was done. 
A fair face bent above the boy ; 
It must have been the boy’s own mother,— 
For never would such pride and joy 
Have lit the face of any other. 
And while she gazed, the quiet air 
Grew tremulous with a whispered prayer ; 
Anon it ceased, and the boy awoke, 
And a smile of love o’er his features broke. 
The mother marked with a holy joy 
The dimpling cheek of her darling boy, | 
And caught him up, while a warm surprise 
Stole like a star to her midnight eyes !— 
And she whispered low, as she gently smiled, 
“| know an Angel has kissed my child !” 

