For those who saw him at his play, could never pass him by,
But often have they stopp’d awhile, to kiss his forehead fair,
And part upon his open brow his clustering auburn hair.
And when upraised his beauteous eye, with a confiding gaze,
I’ve thought it was as cherubs look, that sweet angelic face;
So innocent, so passing fair, so full of love and bliss;
It brings a thought of Heaven to earth, sweet childhood’s happiness!
O, types of Heaven they oft may see, whose thoughts to Heaven ascend,
When things all lovely to behold their daily steps attend.
Why lies that babe so silent there, in monumental rest,