A FATHER, TO HIS LITTLE BOY. 13 



The proposal was accepted. Each sent his name 

 as a subscriber to the work. The ladies of course 

 know nothing about the wager ; and the pieces are 

 soon to be sent to the " South Devon Monthly 

 Museum." 



A FATHER, TO HIS LITTLE BOY. 



How soon the sting of Care's forgot 

 When, near the fire-side's social spot, 

 At evening's hour of rest I wile 

 Away the twilight, in thy smile ; 

 When round my neck thy little arm 

 Is folded fondly like a charm, 

 And thy soft cheek has made a nest 

 In Love's dominion on my breast, 

 To hear some merry tale that well 

 Thy frequent laugh proclaims I tell. 



I feel a pleasure round me thrown, 

 Almost as innocent as thine own, 

 Whene'er thou sitt'st upon my knee 

 With head bowed down attentively 



To catch the dial's little sound ; 

 Or rapturous, with thy voice of glee, 



To see its golden wheels go round ; 

 Or, with exulting eye to see, 

 Upon its silver cover shine, 

 A little, curly head, like thine. 



O ! I could sit the whole long day, 

 To watch and share thine artless play, 

 And revel in the poetry 

 Of life's delightful dawn with thee. 



The world may sometimes smile, my boy, 

 The look may seem illumed with joy, 

 Yet little deem we what may dwell 

 Within the bosom's secret cell ; 

 But if thou smil'st, O ! then I know 

 How pure the heart's bright beams may flow. 



FRANZ. 



