University of Virginia Library

LINES ON A LOVELY CHILD.

Those young glad eyes, that laugh beneath a brow
Calmer than breezeless waters—(whose soft flow
Is over gem-like pebbles, smooth and fair;)
A brow unwithered—nay, untouched by care—
How radiantly they tell their laughing tale
Of glowing hope—hope never known to fail!
Those young glad eyes, how beautiful, how bright,
Like azured incarnations of the light—
Like bedded violets, stained with colourings deep,
(Won from the warm rich dews that softly steep
Each folded leaf in hours of fragrant sleep!)
Yet e'en more exquisite their sunny hue,
Aërially—etherially blue;
While thine unclouded forehead, calm and clear,
The impress of that fearless joy doth bear,
Monopolized by childhood—and denied
To those who battle with life's deeper tide,
Its stronger currents, and its stormier course,
Where the conflicting waves roll, clamouring, hoarse—
Ah, stream of life! thou'rt fairest near the source—
And fearless joy can never more be theirs,
Who once have borne, or battled with thy cares:
Childhood, blest childhood!—high and holy time—
How beautiful thou art, and how sublime!
And thou, sweet beauteous being! thou that now
Art near me, with thy laughing eye and brow,
O'er whose pure mind, as o'er a sheeny glass,
The shadow of the universe shall pass!
How like a rainbow, seems thy lovely life,
Far lifted o'er the surge, the storm, the strife!
Thou'rt like a thrice-blessed bird of Paradise,
Borne on the breath of mighty harmonies—
A native of the sunshine and the skies;
Thou art a spring, whose after course shall be
'Midst streams that shall make glad the eternity!
A scion thou—whose branches yet shall shoot
From Earth to Heaven—and bear immortal fruit.
A link in the immense and wondrous chain,
Where frailest link was never hung in vain;
A star—whose sweet reflections cast a glow
O'er earth, even this dark, troubled earth below;
Unstained, unshadowed by its frowning gloom,
Smiling to cheer, to adorn it, and to illume.
Sweet star! O glorious scion! loveliest spring—
Most radiant bird, that never needs a wing:
Bright rainbow—like that gracious thing too, made
Of tears, and splendours, colour, light and shade!
Pure living link, that never shall be lost—
More precious than fine gold of heaviest cost.
Child, blessed care of heaven's own angel host!
Bright, beauteous innocent! ah, who can tell
What characters shall stamp the chronicle
Of thy veiled future—what the times unborn
Shall shew thee when that covering veil is torn;
What hidden fortunes are reserved for thee—
What after-paths of gloom and mystery
Thy feet may have in faltering trust to tread—
What crushing tempests may assail that head,
What pangs may agonize that guileless heart,
(That now but recks of life its brighter part)
Ah! wring that soul, that scarce hath learned to feel,
With inward throes—no outward arts can heal!
And yet, what gladness beams along thy brow—
What kindlings of delight illume it now!
Would, would with fond belief that I might dwell,
On the sweet prophet-tales it seems to tell.
Alas! too much of human life I know,
Too much of all the mysteries of its woe—
E'en childhood's laughter-loving joys too view,
As real, and dare to deem them lasting too!
No, no—the change, the storm, the blight must come,
Guests of the soul, and guides to the opening tomb.
Those lightning-laughters, beauty-breathing smiles,
The young enchantments of thy artless wiles—
Thy angel-mien, that but of hope doth speak,
The rose of beauty opening on thy cheek,—
All shall become the sports, all, all the spoil
Of ambushed foes that none may 'scape nor foil!
Fear, Doubt, Pain, Disappointment, Sickness, Care;
These things know not to pity nor to spare—
And yet we weep, how bitterly we weep
O'er those, who in life's dayspring fall asleep;
The early called—the unutterably blest—
The spared—the chosen—the consigned to rest;
How painfully we weep o'er each sweet flower,
Culled in the pride of its unfolding hour—
Ere changeful gusts, ere harsh and blighting airs
Of life assailed it—life, whose cankering cares
Too oft attack the loveliest and the best,
And plant the venom in the tenderest breast;
But thou, sweet child! I will hope better things
For thee—and e'en if the veiled Future brings
Trials and sorrows on its gliding wings,
Let Faith be still the gracious covering cloud,
Thy shrinking form to o'ermantle and enshroud;
Then, then shall influences benign prevail—
Smoothed be thy passage through this shadowy vale,
Sanctified be thy sorrows and thy fears,
Glorified all thy trials and thy tears!
Thine shall be consolations pure and high,
Dropped like the sacred manna from the sky—
Thine shall be hopes with precious mysteries fraught,
And thine the unearthly sovereignties of thought.