THE following Poems were, with scarcely an exception, addressed to individuals, or suggested by actual occurrences. They have, however, little or nothing of an occasional character certainly are never without a general interest. CHILDHOOD. Oh what a wilderness were this sad world And every feeling in itself confiding, Yet never single, but continuous, gliding A seraph clips the Empyreal! Such man was TO AN INFANT. WISE is the way of Nature, first to make A thing that we may love as soon as see, And, sinless, bear'st the penalty of sin; And yet as quickly wilt thou smile again Of breath from steel. So may the peace within TO AN INFANT. SURE 'tis a holy and a healing thought That fills my heart and mind at sight of thee, Sweet infant, we might deem thy smile was brought Where thou could'st know, and feel, and taste, and see That innocence which, lost, is vainly sought In this poor world. Yet, if thou wert so good As love conceives thee, thou had'st ne'er been born; For sure the Lord of Justice never would Have doom'd a loyal spirit to be shorn Exile perfection to an earth forlorn. VOL. II. I TO AN INFANT. WRITTEN ON A SNOWY DAY. SOME say, sweet babe, thy mind is but a blank, Of unsunn'd snow, that passively must yield I deem not so of any human child, Nor can believe our nature ever sank To such a lowness. Nay, my pretty boy! In thy shrill laugh there is intelligence; And though we can but guess, or how, or whence Thought has come with thee, happy thought, though dumb. |