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TO A CHILD.-I

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TO A CHILD. Unknown, unseen, yet cherish'd in my breast, Child of my love, my happiness and woe, I leave thee ling'ring wiih a soul oppress'd To climes afar, to other worlds to go Yet ere I lose the mountains of my land, The htst blue glimpse of thy maternal shore, Hopes of my heart recorded by my hand, Shall be my child's when life and grief are o'er. While on thine infant innocence I gaze— 'Tis but the faiic of a fatl,,er's tiiit)l,- And cast a glance of prophecy on days With bliss, perchance with wretchedness, combined; Twere wise to wish thee pure and faultless dead, Ere passion and incentive gifts of time Around thy heart delusive feelings shed, And stain thy spotless innocence with crime. Yes—-vise it were, but from this heart, Where eve y year hath triumph'd in decay i From that last solace of my woe to part Were e'en to chase the blood of life away. I'd have thee live some few bright summers yet, 'iill toil and sufferance have blanch'd my brow, Then thy pure tears at least my tomb may wet, Though »'er my grave no other sorrows flow. And when (as haply thou in autumn's eve 1\la.pt steal from vulgar joys a pensive hour O'er the cold ashes of thy sire to grieve And gild with filial drops his tomb-sprung flower) As the last tints ol wan effulgence shed A sad complexion round the solemn scene, Since little thy conception of the dead May tell like whom thine unseen sire hath been; Go-lean thee o're unruffled waters deep, There trace the features o'er their mirror thrown, And happly those, that rest in endless sleep, May greet thy view, developed in thine own. —ion

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