 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
260
ELLIN.—1837.
My precious babe, my guileless little girl,—The soft sweet beauty of thy cherub face
Is smiling on me, radiant as a pearl
With young intelligence and infant grace:
And must the wintry touch of sorrow gall
Thy tenderness, fair snow-drop of the spring?
Must evil taint thee,—must the world enthrall
Thine innocent mind, poor harmless little thing?
Ah, yes! thou too must taste the cup of woe,
Thy heart must learn to grieve, as others do,
Thy soul must feel life's many-pointed sting:
But fear not, darling child, for well I know
Whatever cares may meet thee, ills befall,
Thy father's God shall lead thee safe through all.
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