Such be thine ecstacy, such be thy joy,
Thy tender pleasure o’er thine infant boy;
Be it thy rich felicity to prove
The deepest raptures of maternal love.
’Tis sweet to cultivate some simple flower,
And watch its form expanding every hour,
From the green bud that swells upon the spray
Till full-blown petals meet the sunny ray,
Unfold bright tints, disclose surpassing bloom,
And shed around their delicate perfume.