 | The Poetry of Real Life |  |
35
CHILDREN, HOW TO BE TREATED.
How lovely! lo! the sunbeams 'round the headOf yon' soft-sleeping child are thrownd, as 'twere
An halo 'round a new-born Angel! dare
To think so: and, when that bright wreath has fled,
Let bold Imagination, in its stead,
Behold that far diviner crown, still there,
Of its own innocence! this let it wear
Constantly in thy sight, that thou may'st tread
As in an angel's presence, ever so
Regarding it; nor, then, wilt thou be wrong:
For treated as such, such 'twill really grow,
And then a little angel will belong
To thee; and, as one flower doth spring fore-show,
So 'round thee with thy child all heaven shall throng!
| The Poetry of Real Life | |