These exiled feet shall press thy much lov’d shore!”
SONNET.
ON A SLEEPING INFANT.
Sleep’s dewy veil hath sealed thy curtained eyes,
And lapped thine earliest cares in peaceful rest,
Fair babe; yet soon all radiant shalt thou rise,
Smiling new rapture to thy mother’s breast.
Oh may no darker clouds obscure the skies
Of thy bright promise—mayest thou never know
The cold world, stripped from its deceitful guise