Two Mornings, the baby sleeps

STEP softly; the baby sleeps;
Drop the curtains, and close the door;
Baby sleeps, while mother weeps—
Sleeps, never to waken more.

Not a breath disturbs his repose;
The blossom he wears has forgotten to blow.
Once his two cheeks were red as a rose;
Now they are lilies, you know.
Morning will come, with its sweet surprise,
Waken the flowers, and scatter the dew;
But never again shall the baby’s eyes
Watch the sunbeams break through.
Yet in heaven his morning is growing
To fairer dawning than ours has known—
A fountain of light forever flowing
Forth from the great white throne.