 | New Poems by George Crabbe |  |
From an expiring Mother's feeble Hand,
In holy Confidence, a sacred Trust
The Aunt receiv'd, and bore her to this Place.
There as a Parent, Governess & Friend,
She nurst and trained and led the little Maid,
In Peace to Virtue, & in Love to Knowledge;
Gave to her Mind the Riches of her own!
Corrected all that she perceiv'd Amiss!
Implanted Every Truth that she believed,
Fostered the new-born Virtue, and in Time
Spoke of God's Grace and taught the Soul to pray.
But of the Ways of social Life, the Good
And Evil, Dangers & Delights, the Charm
And Fascination of Society,
Save with that Mind whose Stores were made her own,
She nothing knew! The World was yet a Book
In a strange Language written, and the Guide,
When the Niece, eager and inquisitive!
Begged for One Page! said tenderly: “Forbear!
“Ask me not, Love, I read it not myself.”
In holy Confidence, a sacred Trust
The Aunt receiv'd, and bore her to this Place.
There as a Parent, Governess & Friend,
She nurst and trained and led the little Maid,
In Peace to Virtue, & in Love to Knowledge;
Gave to her Mind the Riches of her own!
Corrected all that she perceiv'd Amiss!
Implanted Every Truth that she believed,
Fostered the new-born Virtue, and in Time
Spoke of God's Grace and taught the Soul to pray.
But of the Ways of social Life, the Good
And Evil, Dangers & Delights, the Charm
And Fascination of Society,
Save with that Mind whose Stores were made her own,
She nothing knew! The World was yet a Book
In a strange Language written, and the Guide,
60
Begged for One Page! said tenderly: “Forbear!
“Ask me not, Love, I read it not myself.”
| New Poems by George Crabbe | |