an ode before it ends

'tis late, sleep, little child,
'tis too much for the tender eyes
to endure staying awake

rest now, while the air is mild,
and the moonlight soft espies
the silent night unrake


as I watch thy angelic smile,
sweet slumber lost in many a dream,
blissfully unmindful of the coming trial,
nestled by the cozy cloak agleam.

I've let you down, my child, I confess
hiding my face to muffle a cry,
the world is not as fair as I profess
hope ebbs as dawn draws nigh

I cannot bear to watch it fade,
to watch your eyes despair,
but the meek man is ever preyed
morrow, I won't be there