A cry in the night
And I wake with a start.
And though I take flight,
No more a beating heart.

Out of bed I flee.
Down the hall I run.
Oh, how could this be?
The light, there is none!

I fly to the room
Where the angel sleeps.
All sound, I assume.
Her blanket, in heaps.

I wish to leave her
To slumber again.
The angel doth stir.
To leave would be sin.

All the pains endured,
All discomforts real.
To still be allured,
Takes certain appeal.