ON INNOCENCE.
Sweet Innocence, thou child of Peace!
Companion of the infant breast,
Fond parent of domestic ease,
And tranquil rest!
Say, in some solitary cell,
Dost thou with Piety reside,
Far from the sons of Vice, who dwell
With Pomp and Pride?
There dost thou smooth the brow of Care,
Beam hope serene on Virtue’s woes,
And lull the transports of Despair
To soft repose?
Dost thou in some sequester’d grove,
With rural tenderness retire,
There fan the sparks of infant love
And pure desire?
Or with the nymphs in jocund play,
Hide from their swains amid the bowers,
Or with the blooming lasses stray,
To cull sweet flowers?
Where, lovely stranger! hast thou fled,
Since weeping Eden saw thee rove:
Then pensive beauty droop’d her head,
And left the grove?
Return, my once beloved guest!
Bring thy fair friend Content with thee,
Bring back those happy hours, which blest
My infancy.