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SONNET TO A CHILD.
Lovely thou art as earliest buds of spring,
And fresh as glowing summer's opening rose;
Fair as the vale's young lily blossoming,
When, 'neath the sunbeam's touch, its leaves unclose.
My own loved child, thou art a sunny gleam
Lent as a light to cheer my earthly way:
Thy fairy footsteps in thy bounding play,
And thy soft tones, delicious music seem.
What would a mother's heart not ask for thee
From Him who gave thee in thy loveliness
Ever around thy path, to shield, to bless,
Beloved one, may thy heavenly Guardian be:
Thy portion here,—then with His bright-robed choir,
Give thee an angel's wing, a seraph's burning lyre.
