For every thing exists & not one sigh nor smile nor tear, One hair nor particle of dust, not one can pass away. - William Blake

The lamb misused breeds public strife
And yet forgives the butcher's knife.

Sweet dreams form a shade,
O'er my lovely infants head.
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams,
By happy silent moony beams

Sweet sleep with soft down.
Weave thy brows an infant crown.
Sweet sleep Angel mild,
Hover o'er my happy child.

Sweet smiles in the night,
Hover over my delight.
Sweet smiles Mothers smiles,
All the livelong night beguiles.

Better to shun the bait than struggle in the snare.