A father leans over his sleeping son, Baby Charley, and speaks softly to his wife. He pictures night pressing a silencing finger to the child’s lips, stilling all the day’s chatter. One small arm curls behind the head, and five tiny toes peek from the covers like red rosebuds. The baby’s closed eyelids glow faintly with a blue-veined light, as if heaven itself were shining through. The speaker then calls on a “Sleep-Angel” poised on the child’s brow to carry a solemn promise. He vows that when his own death comes, he will feel no pang of regret for any unkind word or deed toward his son. The mood is hushed and worshipful, blending everyday nursery details with a quiet, almost sacred gravity. It’s a moment of intense love and moral clarity, stirred simply by watching a child sleep.
Baby Charley. — Summary
He's fast asleep. See how, O Wife, Night's finger on the lip of life Bids whist the tongue, so prattle-rife, Of busy Baby Charley.
One arm stretched backward round his head, Five little toes from out the bed Just showing, like five rosebuds red, -- So slumbers Baby Charley.
Heaven-lights, I know, are beaming through Those lucent eyelids, veined with blue, That shut away from mortal view Large eyes of Baby Charley.
O sweet Sleep-Angel, throned now On the round glory of his brow, Wave thy wing and waft my vow Breathed over Baby Charley.
I vow that my heart, when death is nigh, Shall never shiver with a sigh For act of hand or tongue or eye That wronged my Baby Charley!