Lines to a Young Child.
Come hither, pretty creature,
Come hither from thy play;
’Tis in thy happy nature
To gambol all the day.
Thy cheek so fair and smiling,
Thine eye so softly blue,
Awake in me repining
To be a child like you.
Once was I young as thee, love,
And played as thou dost now;
With heart as light and joyous,
Such gladness on my brow.
I culled young flowers as gaily,
And bound them in a wreath;
But soon their hues so lovely
All withered into death.
And like that beauty fading,
Have hopes and joys decayed;
Bright visions fled for ever,
And heart-trust been betrayed.
Thus will thy young heart suffer
Amid the wrestling strife
Of grief, pain, tears and sorrow,
That wait on human life.
Yet is a sweet balm given
To sooth and to appease;
The radiant hope of heaven—
That land were sorrows cease.
Thence cheering rays of brightness
Illuminate earth’s shore,
Oh! follow but their guidance
And soon thou’lt weep no more!