My blessed child!—I had but him—yet he
Fill’d all my home even with o’erflowing joy,
Sweet laughter, and wild song, and footstep free.
Where is he now?—my pride, my flower, my boy!
His sunny childhood melted from my sight,
Like a spring dew-drop. Then his forehead wore
A prouder look—his eye a keener light:
I knew these woods might be his world no more!
He loved me—but he left me! Thus they go
Whom we have rear’d, watch’d, bless’d, too much adored!