 | Sonnets and Fugitive Pieces |  |
60
A FATHER TO HIS SLEEPING CHILD.
Say, can the ocean sands outnumber
The feelings fond and fatherly,
Which o'er thy softly pillow'd slumber
So oft have warm'd this heart for thee?
Who in thy days of health so cheerful,
Of sickness who so fondly fearful?
The feelings fond and fatherly,
Which o'er thy softly pillow'd slumber
So oft have warm'd this heart for thee?
Who in thy days of health so cheerful,
Of sickness who so fondly fearful?
And now in ceaseless watch I stand
Lest pain's most pangless touch should slay;
The snow-flake scarcely meets the hand
That steals its slight-knit life away;
Tho' hope disclaims thy fragile mould,
I would not hear thy death-bell toll'd.
Lest pain's most pangless touch should slay;
The snow-flake scarcely meets the hand
That steals its slight-knit life away;
Tho' hope disclaims thy fragile mould,
I would not hear thy death-bell toll'd.
61
I love thy glossy curls which close
Upon thine eye-sight, golden-bright,
Or rest upon the damask rose
Of thy warm cheek, with lightsome freight;
And those sweet eyes, so blue and deep,
Beneath the tranquil lids of sleep!
Upon thine eye-sight, golden-bright,
Or rest upon the damask rose
Of thy warm cheek, with lightsome freight;
And those sweet eyes, so blue and deep,
Beneath the tranquil lids of sleep!
Thy lips, my child, recall the smile
Of those I would not show thee now,
And she who blest my life awhile
Has left her spirit on thy brow:
O doubly dear, now she is cold,
I would not hear thy death-bell toll'd!
Of those I would not show thee now,
And she who blest my life awhile
Has left her spirit on thy brow:
O doubly dear, now she is cold,
I would not hear thy death-bell toll'd!
62
Her voice was musical and low,
Of thrilling tone like sounds in sleep;
And, like the foot-fall in the snow,
Heard faintly, tho' it sink so deep:
And thy soft accents are the same,
Thou hast her voice—her look—her name!
Of thrilling tone like sounds in sleep;
And, like the foot-fall in the snow,
Heard faintly, tho' it sink so deep:
And thy soft accents are the same,
Thou hast her voice—her look—her name!
My life will wear a sunny guise
If thou wilt dwell on earth with me,
And every morrow's sun will rise
To greet my sight delightfully:
With thee, throughout the live-long day,
To sing my gloomy thoughts away.
If thou wilt dwell on earth with me,
And every morrow's sun will rise
To greet my sight delightfully:
With thee, throughout the live-long day,
To sing my gloomy thoughts away.
63
But if 'tis fate that thou depart,
My heart will, must with sorrow bleed,
But God shall find that shatter'd heart
As lowly as the bending reed,
And I will live resign'd and high
In hope to meet ye in the sky!
My heart will, must with sorrow bleed,
But God shall find that shatter'd heart
As lowly as the bending reed,
And I will live resign'd and high
In hope to meet ye in the sky!
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