"A Child's Sleep" was written by the Scottish poet Carol Ann Duffy and first published in her 1999 book Meeting Midnight, a collection of poems written specifically for children. The poem describes a child sleeping peacefully under the watchful eye of her mother, who imagines the world of her daughter's slumber as a dark, endless, peaceful forest that the speaker herself cannot enter. The speaker feels a sense of kinship with the night itself, which seems to look down upon the world with its own maternal gaze. The poem presents a loving, gentle portrait of childhood innocence and the comfort of a parent's love.
The speaker hovered by her daughter's bedside as she slept, listening to the sound of the child's breath. The child was separated from her mother in sleep, but the speaker found herself unable to walk away.
The speaker envisioned the world that her daughter inhabited while sleeping as a dark little forest filled with sweet-smelling flowers, a calm, holy place that stretched on and on.
The child herself, the speaker continues, was that forest's heart and soul, suspended in the middle of those woods with no sense of time passing or of anything that came before her, pure and silent.
The speaker softly said her daughter's name aloud, which felt like dropping a little rock to the ground in the middle of a calm, quiet night. The child moved a little in response, seeming to hold the gentle light coming in through the window in the upturned palms of her hands.
The speaker went to stand in front of the glass and gazed out the darkness of the night, which was broader and deeper that within the room. The night itself seemed to look right back at her with its knowing, motherly expression.
“A Child’s Sleep” presents a comforting portrait of a slumbering child whose parent watches over them through the night. In sleep, the speaker envisions her young daughter as the “spirit” of a lovely, tranquil forest that seems to go on forever. The fact that the speaker can’t “enter” this forest alongside her daughter suggests that such deep, unburdened rest is something experienced only by children. And yet, the speaker also can’t bring herself to leave her watchful post at her bedside. In this way, the poem at once shows great reverence for childhood innocence and vulnerability while also honoring the comforting, protective power of a mother’s love.
The speaker presents children’s sleep as something intensely peaceful and harmonious, describing her daughter’s slumber as “a small wood,” or forest, “perfumed with flowers.” This tranquil, soothing image suggests just how deep and happy this sleep is. The speaker also says the child’s “wood” is “acred in hours”; the forest of her “sleep” stretches on for miles.
Though the speaker stands right next to her daughter, she cannot “enter” the woods of her slumber. Such thoroughly peaceful rest, the poem thus implies, is the province of childhood, not adulthood. Calling her daughter “the spirit that lives / in the heart of such woods,” the speaker suggests that this “sacred,” serene rest belongs to the realm of childhood innocence. It's a holy place where "time" and "history" don't matter—a place where the present "good[ness]" of childhood has no end in sight.
In a way, then, her daughter’s sleep reminds the speaker of their separation from each other—and of the fact that the innocence of the speaker’s own childhood has given way to the loving wisdom of motherhood. Now, the speaker watches over her daughter, “hearing her breathe” and softly saying “her name,” as if out of reverence.
Finally turning away from her child at the poem’s end, the speaker looks out the window only to see the gentle, “maternal” darkness of the night “gaze back” at her. She seems to sense a kinship with this “wise” presence looking down over the world much like she gazes down on her daughter. The world itself seems to reflect the protective love she feels toward her child—the kind of love that allows for her child to rest in a place that is always "good."
I stood at ...
... could not leave.
The poem begins with the speaker standing next to her sleeping child. Right away, the poem treats this sleep as a kind of physical place or space: the speaker doesn't say that she's next to her daughter's crib or bed, but rather "at the edge of my child's sleep," as though this sleep is a kind of bubble enveloping the child. The speaker stands outside this realm, "hearing her breathe." Notice the use of soft /h/ alliteration here, which might subtly evoke the sound of the sleeping child's breath.
The speaker then builds on the idea of this "sleep" as a place by saying that she can't "enter" it alongside her daughter. The speaker can't literally enter her daughter's dreams, of course, but on a more figurative level, this line emphasizes the separation between childhood and adulthood. The speaker longs to be close to her daughter, but this line also suggests that she longs for the peace and innocence of childhood itself.
Despite being inherently separate from her child, the speaker can't "leave" her daughter's side. Perhaps this is because she feels the need to protect her while she is in this vulnerable state. The anaphora of lines 3-4 (the repetition of "I could not") calls readers' attention to this sense of being stuck in place, separate from her child but unable to walk away.
The poem isn't written in formal verse and therefore does not use a set meter. As this opening quatrain reveals, however, it does follow a very simple ABCB rhyme scheme: every second and fourth line rhyme. This rhyme scheme gives the poem the cadence of a nursery rhyme or lullaby.
Her sleep was ...
... acred in hours.
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Get LitCharts A+And she was ...
... wordlessly good.
I spoke her ...
... their soft light;
then went to ...
... face of moon.
Darkness often symbolizes the unknown, while light represents innocence and purity. On one level, the poem draws on this traditional symbolism: the child holds "soft light" in the palms of her hands, for example, which symbolically reflects her pure goodness, while the "greater dark / outside the room" might make the sleeping child's room itself sound like a warm, safe space in the middle of the unknown.
At the same time, however, the poem symbolically links darkness with the wonder and idyllic beauty of childhood. The child's sleep is "dark, peaceful, [and] sacred," for example—a description that places darkness right alongside tranquility and holiness. Darkness here suggests a haven from the burdens and cares of adult/waking life; it allows for quiet and peace.
Indeed, the speaker goes on to describe the vast darkness outside this room as both "maternal" and "wise, as though the night is a watchful mother gazing down on the earth. Darkness is thus ultimately linked not with fear and uncertainty, but with maternal wisdom and love—things that, like the darkness of night itself, allow for the child's comfortable uninterrupted sleep. Darkness is the backdrop against which the child's innocent light shines.
Asyndeton adds to the poem's gentle, soothing rhythm and to the speaker's meditative tone. In lines 7-8, for example, the speaker uses asyndeton while describing the metaphorical "wood" of her daughter's sleep:
dark, peaceful, sacred,
acred in hours.
The lack of any coordinating conjunction ("and") between "sacred" and "acred in hours" speeds the poem up a little, and it also suggests that this list isn't necessarily a complete one. It's as if the speaker could go on and on describing the wonderful characteristics of her child's sleep. The lack of conjunctions also eliminates any sense of hierarchy between the different parts of the sentence; it's just as important that the child's sleep is "dark" as it is "acred in hours"—or that she has as much time to sleep as she needs.
There's more asyndeton in lines 11-12. While sleeping, the speaker's daughter is:
without time, without history,
wordlessly good.
Again, the lack of coordinating conjunction between "history" and "wordlessly good" speeds up the poem, making it feel as though the speaker is just thinking aloud while she watches her sleeping daughter. Asyndeton also makes this list feel very similar to the previous one so that even though there is no actual repetition between those lines and these, the rhythms of the poem feel familiar and therefore soothing.
The speaker turns to asyndeton one last time in the poem's closing lines:
gazed back, maternal, wise,
with its face of moon.
Again, the lack of any conjunctions here helps the poem feel more soothing and contemplative.
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A forest.
"A Child's Sleep" consists of 20 lines divided into five quatrains, or four-line stanzas. The regular stanza length adds to the poem's calm, reassuring tone. There are no surprises in the poem that would shake the child fully awake, and its form is likewise steady and predictable. Quatrains are also extremely common in poetry, and their use here adds to the overall feeling of comfort and safety. The poem is written for children, and its form is appropriately simple and accessible.
Like the majority of contemporary poetry, "A Child's Sleep" doesn't follow a set meter. Yet it's not quite a free verse poem either, given that does follow a regular rhyme scheme (more on that in the next section of this guide!). The poem's lack of any strict meter allows the speaker's language to flow naturally. It keeps things feeling intimate and conversational, which makes sense given that the speaker is simply describing the experience of watching her child sleep—she isn't making a big production out of it!
At the same time, there is a general sense of rhythm here: though the syllable number varies throughout, the poem very often alternates between longer and shorter lines. Just look at the first stanza:
I stood at the edge of my child's sleep
hearing her breathe;
although I could not enter there,
I could not leave.
This creates a sensation of moving in and out or back and forth, perhaps evoking the gentle flow of the child's breathing or even the rocking of a cradle.
Each quatrain of the poem follows a rhyme scheme of ABCB. For example:
[...] sleep A
[...] breathe; B
[...] there, C
[...] leave. B
This is a very common rhyme scheme in poetry, which helps make this poem feel comforting and familiar. It lends the poem a sense of steady, soothing music that might feel a bit like a lullaby.
While the majority of the poem's rhymes are exact, the first and last ("breathe" / "leave," and "room" / "moon") are actually slant rhymes. Interestingly, these two slightly imperfect rhymes correspond with the two points in the poem when the contrast between childhood/adulthood and the world inside the room/outside the room and are most explicit. The lack of exact rhymes in these two places might subtly draw attention to the ways in which a parent's experience differs from their child's.
The poem's speaker is someone watching her daughter while she sleeps. She perhaps feels a little envious of her daughter's ability to sleep so soundly—to "enter" the kind of deep, peaceful slumber that seems to belong to the innocence of childhood. At the same time, she's clearly protective of her daughter and stays close by her side, seemingly entranced by her breathing and the way her small "open palms" cup the "soft light" that filters into the room.
Based on the speaker's identification with the "maternal" moon shining in through the window, it makes sense to interpret the speaker as herself being a mother. In fact, it wouldn't be a stretch to think of the speaker as a projection of Duffy herself, whose own daughter was born only a few years before this poem was written. However, the poem doesn't actually gender its speaker or refer explicitly to Duffy's life, so other interpretations are also valid.
The poem takes place inside a room at night while the speaker's young daughter sleeps. It doesn't get a whole lot more specific than that; it could be any room in any house anywhere in the world, although it's safe to say it's probably meant to be a child's bedroom. In any case, the lack of specificity leaves room for the reader to connect the poem to their own experiences.
The night itself is described as "still" and the world "outside the room" is "dark" and "wise." The implication is that the child is utterly safe and cared for. This is fitting for a poem that was written for a young readership; it feels reassuring, a reminder to children that as long as their parents are looking after them, they have nothing to be concerned about.
Scottish poet Carol Ann Duffy (b. 1955) grew up reading poetry. Perhaps it's no wonder then that, in addition to her great success as a poet for adults, she has written over a dozen books for children.
“A Child’s Sleep” was first published as the final poem in Meeting Midnight, a collection of Duffy's poems written specifically for kids. While her children's poetry is often simpler and more playful than her work for adults, it doesn't shy away from tackling serious subjects. In fact, her children's poetry has been praised for its willingness to confront issues not typically broached in literature written for younger audiences. Topics such as love, death, and sexuality are not hidden from view but rather handled with delicacy and care. In "The Maiden Names," for example, the speaker learns that the women in her family all had different names before they were married, while the title poem from Meeting Midnight depicts two female characters kissing "full on the lips."
Duffy has said that one of her biggest influences was the American poet Sylvia Plath, who, along with other so-called "Confessional" poets, wrote frankly about intimate, even taboo subjects in their work. In Plath's poetry, Duffy found a reflection of many of her own thoughts and feelings as a woman raised in a patriarchal society.
The love poems of Chilean poet Pablo Neruda had a huge impact on Duffy (who is likewise best known for her love poems). Duffy has also written a great deal about childhood, innocence, and the relationships between parents and kids (see: "We Remember Your Childhood Well," "In Mrs Tilchers Class," "Before You Were Mine"). Finally, she draws frequently from fairy tales and mythology in her writing for both children and adults; for example, her poem "Medusa" borrows from Greek mythology, while "Little Red Cap" is a retelling of the fairy tale Little Red Riding Hood.
“A Child’s Sleep” doesn't make any references to a historical context outside the poem, but it almost certainly draws from Duffy's own experiences as a mother: she gave birth to her daughter, Ella, in 1995, only a few years before this poem was published in 1999.
Indeed, Duffy said in a 2016 interview with the Belfast Telegraph that she has been “inspired” by her own daughter, and that “[w]hen you become a parent, you are not only sharing a new childhood, but it reminds you of your own.” She has also said that "[c]hildhood is like a long greenhouse where everything is growing, it's lush and steamy. It's where poems come from."
Duffy, who identifies as a lesbian, made history in 2009 when she became the first woman, mother, and openly LGBT person appointed Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom.
The Poet's Life and Work — Learn more about Duffy in this biography from the Poetry Foundation.
Duffy on Writing for Young Audiences — In this 2016 interview with the Belfast Telegraph, Duffy discusses writing poetry that engages kids and how she's been inspired by her own daughter.
Duffy's Childhood Nostalgia — In this 2002 Guardian article, Duffy talks about her path to literary stardom and the ways in which she is still nostalgic for, and inspired by, childhood.