The Angel and the Child Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

An angel with a radiant face,
       &nbsp Above a cradle bent to look,
Seemed his own image there to trace,
       &nbsp As in the waters of a brook.

"Dear child! who me resemblest so,"
       &nbsp It whispered, "come, O come with me!
Happy together let us go,
       &nbsp The earth unworthy is of thee!

"Here none to perfect bliss attain;
       &nbsp The soul in pleasure suffering lies;
Joy hath an undertone of pain,
       &nbsp And even the happiest hours their sighs.

"Fear doth at every portal knock;
       &nbsp Never a day serene and pure
From the o'ershadowing tempest's shock
       &nbsp Hath made the morrow's dawn secure.

"What then, shall sorrows and shall fears
       &nbsp Come to disturb so pure a brow?
And with the bitterness of tears
       &nbsp These eyes of azure troubled grow?

"Ah no! into the fields of space,
       &nbsp Away shalt thou escape with me;
And Providence will grant thee grace
       &nbsp Of all the days that were to be.