Sonett-Forum

TO AN INFANT.

Fair bud of being ! blossoming like the rose —
Leaf upon leaf unfolding to the eye,
In fragrance rich, and spotless purity —
That hourly dost some latent charm disclose ; —

O may the dews and gentle rains of Heaven
Give to thy root immortal sustenance ;
So thou in matchless beauty shalt advance,
Nor by the storms of life be rudely driven.

But if, O envious Death ! this little flower
Thou from its tender stem untimely break,
An Angel shall the drooping victim take,

And quick transplant it to a heavenly bower ;
Where it shall flourish in eternal Spring,
Nurtured beneath the eye of a paternal King.