In the charmed-words of mother and wife,
Than in the brightest dreams of girlhood’s hour,
When young Romance flung glittering hues o’er life.
Our first-born—blessings on him!—he hath been
For four short years our treasure and our pride,
With his fair, open brow, and eye serene,
And winning ways of mirth and thought allied.
And now upon my breast a babe is nestling,
With her dear father’s eyes of darkest hue,
And dark brown hair upon her forehead resting,