33^ 



EXTEMPORE LINES 



ON THE STATUE OF A CHILD WITH FLOWERS, 



(daughter op VINCENT THOMPSON, ESQ.,) 



Bf Mr, Peter HollitUf now exhibiting in the Birmingham Society of Arts, 



Ayb — ofuard thy flowers with care, thou gentle cliild — 



Caress them with thy soft and fairy hand, 



Or wreatli them 'midst thy curls of clust'ring hair :— 



Oh I love them— cherish them — for ne'er to thee 



In after-life will aught appear so fair. 



So wond'rous beautiful as those young buds 



To thy pure joy-lit eyes. — Now thou canst see 



In the bright rose only its graceful form. 



Its folded petals, and the blushing hue 



Out-glowing e'en thy cheek — ^but it will fade— 



The leaves will wither on the drooping stem. 



And thou wilt find that e'en the rose has thorns. 



Thou " fair and fairy one !" — On t>)y young brow 

 E'en 'midst thy smiles, lies thought ; it is a leaf 

 On which delusive hope hath joyed to write 

 With rosy finger — ^fancy loved to paint 

 With fairest, brightest hue, her airy dreams— 

 And thou believed them — ^believe them yet !— 

 Blest in thine angel -innocence of heart. 

 All things seem true and beautiful to thee. 

 Oh 1 were it mine to watch thy childhood's growth, 

 I would not have thee hear of death, or woe— 

 I would not have thee see a drooping flower— 

 J would not that a butterfly, whose wing 

 Some rude, rough hand had crushed, should meet tliine eye— 

 I would not have thee hear the wailing voice 

 Of a poor bird beside her plunder'd nest—*. 

 For all would tell of sorrow or of crime. • 



But thou should'st wander the live-long day. 



O'er hill and o'er woodland, with bird and with bee. 

 Watch in the streamlet the fishes at play. 



And the gay squirrels springing in greenwood tree :— 

 Hide with the violet — ^blush with the rose — 



Climb with the woodbine the hedge-row fence- 

 Dance in the light breeze that over them blows. 

 Thou creature of beauty and innocence ! 

 ♦ * * * • 



—And 'tis but marble ! — that sweet, gentle'face. 

 So fiill of thought, and yet all o'er the child — 

 Those soft and fairy-feet and hands, that now 

 As wearied out with sport, are laid at rest. 

 Scarce willing to be still : — that graceful form, 

 (Half-leaning on the soft and rounded arm,) 

 So animate with life, that e'en we fear 

 'Twill rise and flee away, if but a bird, 

 A flower, an insect should attract its glance. 



Here doth art triumph most — and as we gaze. 

 And, turning, gaze again, who but would deem 

 That wizards yet were lingering on earth. 

 And this the work of one ? L. A. T. 



Birmingham, Nov. Uth, 1834. 



