When She Sings
She sings the children to their sleep,
Heartbreak-Sweet her voice
Guides them to their dreams.
The words her own, the tunes their choice,
She seals the day's invisible seams
So kindly soft, it makes me weep.
She sings them to a gentle rest,
Her words bright gifts
Of solace, like her mother's touch.
I wait outside, and the sweet sound drifts
From room to room, and I feel that such
Beauty is of all good things the best.
Often the thought occurs to me
As we slowly lie them down,
That if, as claimed, there angels be,
This then is how they sound:
No thundering chorus, nor trumpet's call,
But soft as snow their notes must fall,
Like snowflakes to the ground.
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