I would now that I might have been thy bed.
So dark a night it was that wouldst thou sleep
And, weary, rest–a child in my keep–
Upon my breast thy fair and frightened head.
And calm, indeed, to sleep as I have said:
No want or need forgotten whilst thou weep’
To heal thy soul. A drink of comfort, deep,
Would make thee whole again, my child, instead
Of being broke; to smile for me again
When next thou woke‘, and look into mine eyes;
And I would see my Sister gazing up
To smile at me–a smile I would prize
Above all pleasure. For, devoid of pain,
Would grace and measure ever fill her cup.