BENEDICTION ON CHILDREN.

Imps, that hold your daily revels

Round the windows of my bower

Would that Hell's ten thousand devils

Had you in their clutch this hour!

Screaming, yelling, little nasties,

Would that Ogres down their maw

Had you cramm'd in Christmas pasties,

That would make ye hold your jaw.

Saucy imps, stew'd down to jelly,

Ye would make a sauce most rare;

Or with pudding in each belly,

Rival roasted pig or hare.

Sweeter than the fish of these is,

Would be yours, young human bores;

All with apples at your noses,

Would I saw you dish'd by scores!

Herod slaughter'd harmless sucklings,

Not with tongues like yours to vex;

Were he here, ye Devil's ducklings,

I would bid him wring your necks.

Metropolitan.