 | Poems (1857) |  |
SWEET EIGHTEEN.
I
Sweet eighteen!—graceful eighteen!Bring me roses—the birth-day flower—
Bathe them in dews where the fairies have been,
To wreath a charm for my natal hour:
173
Future life in each varied scene—
Lights and shadows which come and pass
Over the heart when it's turned eighteen!
II
Mother, oh! sing me again to rest,Tender and fond as thy bosom of yore;
Father, I kneel, to again be blest
Over my prayers as thou blessed me before!
Nature half grieving, half glad, appears;
Tears and smiles on the skies have been;
Just as I feel when I call past years,
And think that I now am—oh, sweet eighteen!
III
Summer hath brought me a bridal dress,Lilies all gemmed with the treasures of morn;
Woodbines that twine, with their fondest caress,
Round the old cottage where they were born!
Thus will I cherish, thus hallow the spot,
Passing the moments your loves between;
For what are the pleasures my home has not?
Oh, what other years are like sweet eighteen?
| Poems (1857) | |