To a Lady
by
Clement Clarke Moore
(1779-1863)
Thy dimpled girls and rosy boys
Rekindle in thy heart the joys
That bless'd thy tender years:
Unheeded fleet the hours away;
For, while thy cherubs round thee play,
New life thy bosom cheers.
One more, thou tell'st me, I may taste,
Ere envious time this frame shall waste,
Ah! there 's a ray of lustre mild,
Illumes the bosom of a child,
To age, alas! scarce known.
Not for my infant pleasures past
I mourn; those joys which flew so fast,
But for the mind, so pure and light,
Which made those joys so fair, so bright,
I sigh, and sigh in vain.
Well I remember you, bless'd hours!
Your sunbeams bright, your transient showers!
Thoughtless I saw your fly;
For distant ills then caus'd no dread;
Nor cared I for the moments fled,
For memory call'd no sigh.
Fond parents swayed my every thought;
No blame I feared, no praise I sought,
But what their love bestowed.
Full soon I learn'd each meaning look,
Nor e'er the angry glance mistook
For that where rapture glowed.
Whene'er night's shadows called to rest,
I sought my father, to request
A mother's love more loud would speak;
With kiss on kiss she'd print my cheek,
And bless her darling child.
Thy lightest mists and clouds, sweet sleep!
Thy purest opiates thou dost keep,
No guilt there checks thy soft embrace,
And not e'en tears and sobs can chase
Thee from an infant's bed.
The trickling tears which flow'd at night,
Oft hast thou stay'd, till morning light
So fly before the sunbeam's power
The remnants of the evening shower
Which wet the early rose.
Farewell, bless'd hours! full fast ye flew;
And that which made your bliss so true
Ye would not leave behind.
The glow of youth ye could not leave;
But why, why cruelly bereave
Me of my artless mind?
Fond mother! hope thy bosom warms,
That on the prattler in thy arms
Heaven's choicest gifts may flow.
Thus let thy prayer incessant rise
To Him, who, thron'd above the skies,
Can feel for man below.
"Oh! Thou, whose view is ne'er estrang'd
"From innocence, preserve unchang'd
"Unchang'd in truth and purity,
"Still fearless of futurity,
"Still artless, though refin'd.
"As oft his anxious nurse hath caught
"And sav'd his little hand that sought
"So, let fair Wisdom keep him sure
"From glittering vices which allure,
"Through life's delusive maze.
"Oh! may the ills which man enshroud,
"As shadows of a transient cloud,
"Then may he gently drop to rest,
"Calm as a child by sleep oppres'd,
"And wake to endless joy."
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