 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
101
TO ADELAIDE FELICITY.
Before thy infant lips could frame,
With lisping tone, a parent's name;
When first a smile of playful grace
Was seen upon thy cherub face;
While dandled on thy mother's knee—
Think'st thou that smile was dear to me?
'T was, Adelaide—Felicity.
With lisping tone, a parent's name;
When first a smile of playful grace
Was seen upon thy cherub face;
While dandled on thy mother's knee—
Think'st thou that smile was dear to me?
'T was, Adelaide—Felicity.
When thou, at last, couldst run alone,
And lisp our names with dulcet tone;
And like the lamb, in frolic play,
Didst wile the laughing hours away;
Thy father's bosom throbbed with glee,
While love maternal guarded thee,
'T was, Adelaide—Felicity.
And lisp our names with dulcet tone;
And like the lamb, in frolic play,
Didst wile the laughing hours away;
Thy father's bosom throbbed with glee,
While love maternal guarded thee,
'T was, Adelaide—Felicity.
But ah! how faint a joy was this,
Compared with our superior bliss,
When, budding in the spring of youth,
Replete with virtue, love, and truth,
And every grace we wished to see,
Thy doting parents gazed on thee—
'T was, Adelaide—Felicity.
Compared with our superior bliss,
When, budding in the spring of youth,
Replete with virtue, love, and truth,
And every grace we wished to see,
Thy doting parents gazed on thee—
'T was, Adelaide—Felicity.
102
And when with cultivated mind,
By knowledge stored, by art refined,
Thy faithful heart, thy hand, thy will,
Were pledged to one who holds them still,
One who is worthy even thee,
What think you, owed the youth to me?
'T was, Adelaide—Felicity.
By knowledge stored, by art refined,
Thy faithful heart, thy hand, thy will,
Were pledged to one who holds them still,
One who is worthy even thee,
What think you, owed the youth to me?
'T was, Adelaide—Felicity.
And now, thy lengthened absence o'er,
I hold thee in my arms once more,
And kiss the pearls of joy away,
And see the smiles of rapture play
About the lips from sorrow free,
What, thinkst thou, calls this tear from me?
'T is, Adelaide—Felicity.
I hold thee in my arms once more,
And kiss the pearls of joy away,
And see the smiles of rapture play
About the lips from sorrow free,
What, thinkst thou, calls this tear from me?
'T is, Adelaide—Felicity.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |