Once a dream did weave a shade O’er my angel-guarded bed, That an emmet lost its way Where on grass methought I lay.
Troubled, wildered, and forlorn, Dark, benighted, travel-worn, Over many a tangle spray, All heart-broke, I heard her say:
‘Oh my children! do they cry, Do they hear their father sigh? Now they look abroad to see, Now return and weep for me.’
Pitying, I dropped a tear: But I saw a glow-worm near, Who replied, ‘What wailing wight Calls the watchman of the night?
‘I am set to light the ground, While the beetle goes his round: Follow now the beetle’s hum; Little wanderer, hie thee home!’