 | Poems (1895) |  |
76
VI. TO MY CHILD.
Oh! sink not from us, as a drop of dew,From life's fresh rose to the obstructive sod,
Where ear may hear thee not, nor fond eye view;
But our hearts strike against the sullen clod
For ever, till they break. On morning new
Never came instant night: and dearest God
Grant that to thy sweet dawn of human day
A glorious noon and placid eve be fated,
And that to whither goes poor dust alway
We may descend before thee!—O, created
Of divine love and joy! do not forsake us
In this thy bud of being; but disclose
The fulness of life's flower, and therewith make us
A garden all of sweets, thou folded rose!
22nd January 1839.
| Poems (1895) | |