All good and guiltless thou art.Some transient griefs will touch thy heart,Griefs
that along thy altered faceWill breathe a more subduing
grace,Than even those looks of joy that lieOn the soft cheek of infancy.WILSON, To a
Sleeping Child
HAST thou been in the woods with the
honey-bee?Hast thou been with the lamb in the pastures
free?With the hare through to copses and the dingles
wild?With the butterfly over the heath, fair
child?Yes: the light fall of thy bounding feetHath not startled the wren from her mossy seat;Yet hast thou ranged the green forest-dells, And brought
back a treasure of buds and bells.
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Thou know'st not the sweetness, by antique
songBreathed o'er the names of that flowery
throng;The woodbine, the primrose, the violet
dim,The lily that gleams by the fountain's
brim:[Page 2]These are old
words, that have made each groveA dreary haunt for romance
and love;Each sunny bank, where faint odours
lieA place for the gushings of Poesy.
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Thou know'st not the light wherewith fairy
loreSprinkles the turf and the daisies o'er;Enough for thee are the dews that sleepLike
hidden gems in the flower-urns deep;Enough the rich crimson
spots that dwellMidst the gold of the cowslip's perfumed
cell;And the by the blossoming sweet-briars
shed,And the beauty that bows the wood-hyacinth's
head.
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Oh! Happy child in thy fawn-like glee!What is remembrance or thought to thee?Fill thy
bright locks with those gifts of spring,O'er thy green
pathway their colours fling;Bind them in chaplet and wild
festoon—What if to droop and to perish soon?Nature hath mines of such wealth—and thouNever
wilt prize its delights as now!
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For a day is coming to quell the toneThat rings in thy laughter, thou joyous one!And
to dim thy brow with a touch of care.Under the gloss of its
clustering hair;[Page 3]And
to tame the flash of thy cloudless eyesInto the stillness
of autumn skies;And to teach thee that grief hath her
needful part,Midst the hidden things of each human
heart!
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Yet shall we mourn, gentle child! for
this?Life hath enough of yet holier bliss!Such be thy portion!—the bliss to lookWith a
reverent spirit, through nature's book;By fount, by forest,
by river's line,To track the paths of a love
divine;To read its deep meanings—to see and
hearGod in earth's garden—and not to fear.
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