TO A LITTLE GIRL. Wore not his cheek the apple's ruddy glow, Would you not say he slept on Death's cold arm? Awake, my boy! I tremble with affright! Awake, and chase this fatal thought! Unclose Thine eye Sweet error! he but slept; I breathe again; Come, gentle dreams, the hour of sleep beguile! Oh, when shall he, for whom I sigh in vain, Beside me watch, to see thy waking smile? LONGFELLOW. TO A LITTLE GIRL. JIMELY blossom, infant fair, Sleeping, waking, still at ease, Pleasing, without skill to please; 63 64 THE CHRISTENING. Yet too innocent to blush, This, in time will be forgot: Other pleasures, other cares, And thou shalt in thy daughter see This picture once resembled thee. A. PHILIPS. THE CHRISTENING. ET, though so prudent, there were times of joy, Among our topmost people to preside: When grave, conceited nurse, of office proud, Bore the young Christian, roaring, through the crowd. CRABBE. WAKE, ye sweet and shadowy thoughts that bring Leaving the chafed waves, the riven sail, In its calm glens secluded, loved to rest, And gather softness from its peaceful breast! |