The night winds howled--the billows dashed <br />Against the tossing chest; <br />And Danae to her broken heart <br />Her slumbering infant pressed. <br /> <br />'My little child'--in tears she said-- <br />'To wake and weep is mine, <br />But thou canst sleep--thou dost not know <br />Thy mother's lot, and thine. <br /> <br />'The moon is up, the moonbeams smile-- <br />They tremble on the main; <br />But dark, within my floating cell, <br />To me they smile in vain. <br /> <br />'Thy folded mantle wraps thee warm, <br />Thy clustering locks are dry, <br />Thou dost not hear the shrieking gust, <br />Nor breakers booming high. <br /> <br />'As o'er thy sweet unconscious face <br />A mournful watch I keep, <br />I think, didst thou but know thy fate, <br />How thou wouldst also weep. <br /> <br />'Yet, dear one, sleep, and sleep, ye winds <br />That vex the restless brine-- <br />When shall these eyes, my babe, be sealed <br />As peacefully as thine!'<br /><br />William Cullen Bryant<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/version-of-a-fragment-of-simonides/
