 | The heir of the world, and lesser poems |  |
SONNET III.
My firstborn boy! bud of my darkened spring!Angelo! welcome to a world whose joys
No longer charm my dim and weary eyes,
Whose hopes have faded in their blossoming!
Welcome as summer showers or dewy eves,
Or starlight intercourse in sinless Youth,
Or that great miracle—the honest truth,
Unto a heart that gushes, while it grieves,
With deepest, holiest love to thee, my boy!
Thou bear'st my name, my brow,—may Heaven avert
Thy Father's fate! and ne'er on what thou wert
Mayst thou look back with any thing but joy!
May the great Giver guide thee free from all
The foes that would exult in thy proud Father's fall.
| The heir of the world, and lesser poems | |