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little ones
Embrace those agéd knees and climb that lap,
On which first kneeling his own infancy
Lisp’d its brief prayer. Such, O my earliest Friend!
Thy lot, and such thy brothers too enjoy. 10
At distance did ye climb Life’s upland road,
Yet cheer’d and cheering: now fraternal love
Hath drawn you to one centre. Be your days
Holy, and blest and blessing may ye live!
To me the Eternal Wisdom hath dispens’d 15
A different fortune and more different mind —
Me from the spot where first I sprang to light
Too soon transplanted, ere my soul had fix’d
Its first domestic loves; and hence through life
Chasing chance-started friendships. A brief while 20
Some have preserv’d me from life’s pelting ills;
But, like a tree with leaves of feeble stem,
If the clouds lasted, and a sudden breeze
Ruffled the boughs, they on my head at once
Dropped the collected shower; and some most false, 25
False and fair-foliag’d as the Manchineel,
Have tempted me to slumber in their shade
E’en mid the storm; then breathing subtlest damps,
Mix’d their own venom with the rain from Heaven,
That I woke poison’d! But, all praise to Him 30
Who gives us all things, more have yielded me
Permanent shelter; and beside one Friend,
Beneath the impervious covert of one oak,
I’ve rais’d a lowly shed, and know the names
Of Husband and of Father; not unhearing 35
Of that divine and nightly-whispering Voice,
Which from my childhood to maturer years
Spake to me of predestinated wreaths,
Bright with no fading colours!
Yet at times
My soul is sad, that I have roam’d through life 40
Still most a stranger, most with naked heart
At mine own home and birthplace: chiefly then,
When I remember thee, my earliest Friend!
Thee, who didst watch my boyhood and my youth;
Didst trace my wanderings with a father’s eye; 45
And boding evil yet still hoping good,
Rebuk’d each fault, and over all my woes
Sorrow’d in silence! He who counts alone
The beatings of the solitary heart,
That Being knows, how I have lov’d thee ever, 50
Lov’d as a brother, as a son rever’d thee!
Oh! ‘tis to me an ever new delight,
To talk of thee and thine: or when the blast
Of the shrill winter, rattling our rude sash,
Endears the cleanly hearth and social bowl; 55
Or when, as now, on some delicious eve,
We in our sweet sequester’d orchard-plot
Sit on the tree crook’d earthward; whose old boughs,
That hang above us in an arborous roof,
Stirr’d by the faint gale of departing May, 60
Send their loose blossoms slanting o’er our heads!
Nor dost not thou sometimes recall those hours,
When with the joy of hope thou gavest thine ear
To my wild firstling-lays. Since then my song
Hath sounded deeper notes, such as beseem 65
Or that sad wisdom folly leaves behind,
Or such as, tuned to these tumultuous times,
Cope with the tempest’s swell!
Those various strains,
Which I have fram’d in many a various mood,
Accept, my Brother! and (for some perchance 70
Will strike discordant on thy milder mind)
If aught of error or intemperate truth
Should meet thine ear, think thou that riper Age
Will calm it down, and let thy love forgive it!
NETHER-STOWEY, SOMERSET, May 26, 1797.
ON THE CHRISTENING OF A FRIEND’S CHILD
This day among the faithful plac’d
And fed with fontal manna,
O with maternal title grac’d,
Dear Anna’s dearest Anna!
While others wish thee wise and fair, 5
A maid of spotless fame,
I’ll breathe this more compendious prayer —
May’st thou deserve thy name!
Thy mother’s name, a potent spell,
That bids the Virtues hie 10
From mystic grove and living cell,
Confess’d to Fancy’s eye;
Meek Quietness without offence;
Content in homespun kirtle;
True Love; and True Love’s Innocence, 15
White Blossom of the Myrtle!
Associates of thy name, sweet Child!
These Virtues may’st thou win;
With face as eloquently mild
To say, they lodge within. 20
So, when her tale of days all flown,
Thy mother shall be miss’d here;
When Heaven at length shall claim its own
And Angels snatch their Sister;
Some hoary-headed friend, perchance, 25
May gaze with stifled breath;
And oft, in momentary trance,
Forget the waste of death.
Even thus a lovely rose I’ve view’d
In summer-swelling pride; 30
Nor mark’d the bud, that green and rude
Peep’d at the rose’s side.
It chanc’d I pass’d again that way
In Autumn’s latest hour,
And wond’ring saw the selfsame spray 35
Rich with the selfsame flower.
Ah fond deceit! the rude green bud
Alike in shape, place, name,
Had bloom’d where bloom’d its parent stud,
Another and the same! 40
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