Lines to a Young Child.

Come hither, pretty creature, Come hither from thy play; ’Tis in thy happy nature To gambol all the day. Thy cheek so fair and smiling, Thine eye so softly blue, Awake in me repining To be a child like you. Once was I young as thee, love, And played as thou dost now; With heart as light and joyous, Such gladness on my brow. I culled young flowers as gaily, And bound them in a wreath; But soon their hues so lovely All withered into death. And like that beauty fading, Have hopes and joys decayed; Bright visions fled for ever, And heart-trust been betrayed. Thus will thy young heart suffer Amid the wrestling strife Of grief, pain, tears and sorrow, That wait on human life. Yet is a sweet balm given To sooth and to appease; The radiant hope of heaven— That land were sorrows cease. Thence cheering rays of brightness Illuminate earth’s shore, Oh! follow but their guidance And soon thou’lt weep no more!