Or gaze upon the glassy sea——
Happy, happy shall we be!
SONNET TO MY MOTHER.
WRITTEN AT THE AGE OF TWELVE.
To thee, maternal guardian of my youth,
I pour the genuine numbers free from art—
The lays inspired by gratitude and truth;
For thou wilt prize the effusion of the heart.
Oh! be it mine, with sweet and pious care,
To calm thy bosom in the hour of grief;