07.05.2007, 11:53
To a Young Mother
Belinda! the young blossom that doth lie
So lightly on thy bosom, - clasp it there;
For on her brow an empress doth not wear,
Nor in her jewelled zone, a gem more fair,
Or that doth deck her more becomingly.
Forget not, then, that deep within thy flower
The germs lie hid of lovelier, holier things: -
Filial affection, that spontaneous springs;
High truth and maiden purity; the power
That comes of gentleness; ay, and more, -
Piety, nourished in the bosom’s core.
These, if so cherished, shall thy blossom bear,
And, with the dews of heavenly love impearled,
It shall adorn thee in another world.
Belinda! the young blossom that doth lie
So lightly on thy bosom, - clasp it there;
For on her brow an empress doth not wear,
Nor in her jewelled zone, a gem more fair,
Or that doth deck her more becomingly.
Forget not, then, that deep within thy flower
The germs lie hid of lovelier, holier things: -
Filial affection, that spontaneous springs;
High truth and maiden purity; the power
That comes of gentleness; ay, and more, -
Piety, nourished in the bosom’s core.
These, if so cherished, shall thy blossom bear,
And, with the dews of heavenly love impearled,
It shall adorn thee in another world.