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TO MY DAUGHTER.

ON HER BIRTHDAY.

Dear Fanny! nine long years ago,
While yet the morning sun was low,
And rosy with the eastern glow

The landscape smil'd;
Whilst low'd the newly-waken'd herds-
Sweet as the early song of birds,
I heard those first, delightful words,

“ Thou hast a child !”

Along with that uprising dew
Tears glisten'd in my eyes, though few,
To hail a dawning quite as new

To me, as Time:
It was not sorrow—not annoy-
But like a happy maid, though coy,
With grief-like welcome, even Joy

Forestalls its prime.

So may'st thou live, dear! many years,
In all the bliss that life endears,
Not without smiles, nor yet from tears

Too strictly kept :

When first thy infant littleness
I folded in my fond caress,
The greatest proof of happiness

Was this, I wept.

Sept., 1839.

LINES

ON SEEING MY WIFE AND TWO CHILDREN SLEEPING IN

THE SAME CHAMBER.

And has the earth lost its so spacious round,
The sky its blue circumference above,
That in this little chamber there is found
Both earth and heaven-my universe of love!
All that my God can give me or remove,
Here sleeping, save myself, in mimic death.
Sweet that in this small compass I behove
To live their living and to breathe their breath!
Almost I wish that with one common sigh
We might resign all mundane care and strife,
And seek together that transcendent sky,
Where Father, Mother, Children, Husband, Wife,
Together pant in everlasting life!

COBLENTZ, Nov., 1835.

TO A CHILD

EMBRACING HIS MOTHER.

1.

Love thy mother, little one!
Kiss and clasp her neck again, -
Hereafter she may have a son
Will kiss and clasp her neck in vain.

Love thy mother, little one!

II.

Gaze upon her living eyes,
And mirror back her love for thee,
Hereafter thou may’st shudder sighs
To meet them when they cannot see.

Gaze upon her living eyes !

III,

Press her lips the while they glow With love that they have often told, Hereafter thou may'st press in wo, And kiss them till thine own are cold.

Press her lips the while they glow!

IV.

Oh, revere her raven hair!
Altho’ it be not silver-grey;
Too early Death, led on by Care,
May snatch save one dear lock away.

Oh! revere her raven hair!

V.

Pray for her at eve and morn,
That Heaven may long the stroke defer,-
For thou may'st live the hour forlorn
When thou wilt ask to die with her.

Pray for her at eve and morn!

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