Sonnet Lxix. To Alice In England. Also Written In Frankfort. Poem by Henry Alford

Child of our love, thou sleepest softly now
In our dear home perchance, with thine own smile
Resting upon thy rosy lips, the while
Thy little arm is folded on thy brow,
And thou art dreaming of the summer flowers
Shown thee this sunny morn. Blest be thy sleep!
Good angels round thy bed their watches keep
In holy station through the silent hours.
Thus we commit thee to the wakeful care
Of Him whose mercy gave thee; thus secure
We leave thee in the confidence of prayer,
Of thy best welfare and his blessing sure;
Near, though to these our earthly eyes unseen;
With us, though half the ocean rolls between.