As fresh and blooming as his own bright cheeks;
While from a pipe, wiled from his ancient nurse
With many a kiss, the rosy urchin blew
Those air-created globes, which, as they soared
Through the blue space, caught the gay tints of morn.
Buoyant and bright as youthful hopes they seemed,
And radiant as those visioned forms of bliss
That hover in the dreams of innocence.
I watched the rapturous gaze of that young boy,
And heard his joyous shout, as rising high