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TO SOPHIA, ON HER BIRTH-DAY.
  
  
  
  
  
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176

TO SOPHIA, ON HER BIRTH-DAY.

Hail to the morn that gave Sophia birth!
Than morn more fair when Spring revisits earth!
Sweet child! since first thy beauties bless'd the day,
Three years have flown on downy wings away:
Three years of sunshine bath'd sometimes with showers,
But showers of April when they fall on flowers.
Say, dearest, what can friendship wish thee more,
Than that such suns and dews may ne'er be o'er?
May sports as innocent, as easy joys,
As airy spirits, and as harmless toys,
Sorrows as gentle, happiness as gay,
Remain to greet thy sixtieth natal day!
Had I that wondrous cap so famed of yore,
Which on the head such mighty magic bore;
Would Fortunatus his vast treasure send,
And I to thee, dear maid, that treasure lend,—
Or as a birth-day present bid thee take
The envied gift, and wear it for my sake;
That ev'ry wish thy little heart could form,
In life's mixt element of calm and storm,
With wishing might be had,—a purer bliss
That cap could never give, sweet babe, than this!