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MY Children, for whom first these simple lays
Were faltered forth in lowly notes of praise,—
Warbled their strains in sweet and solemn chime;
It ye should haply, in long after years,
Behold this gift which love alone endears,
Will ye not then, with fond, regretful gaze,
Turn back once more to childhood's merry days
So long o'erpast? that blessed Spring of love,
When all was peace below and light above!
And, as awakened memory swift recalls
These peaceful scenes, these old paternal halls,
Where well-remembered faces crowd around,
And Parents' voices blend with every sound;
Will ye not think of all our tender cares,
Our anxious thoughts for you—our ceaseless prayers,
And dream for one short hour ye feel again
A Mother's kiss—a Father's blessing then?

But oh, beloved ones! if through life's long day
Ye fain would taste of joys that ne'er decay,
Beware, lest that best gift should e'er depart,
The fear of God, impressed on childhood's heart: