All graces rich and fair.
We gaze, we search, but all in vain;
The gem we love so well,
"Sweet innocence," doth not remain,
Nor in thy chambers dwell.
Thy children, as the world they greet,
Are bearing tales of thee;
"I was not warned," they oft repeat,
Nor taught at Mother's knee.
Sweet Innocence, thou heav'nly grace,