174 CLASSICAL MODERN POETRY. 



INFANCY. 



On yonder mead, that, like a windless lake, 



Shines in the glow of heaven, a cherub-boy 



Is bounding, playful as a breeze new-born, 



Light as the beam that dances by his side. 



Phantom of beauty ! with his trepid locks 



Gleaming like water-wreaths a flower of life, 



To whom the fairy world is fresh, the sky 



A glory, and the earth one huge delight ! 



Joy shaped his brow, and pleasure rolls his eye, 



While Innocence, from out the budding lip, 



Darts her young smiles along his rounded cheek -, 



Grief hath not dimm'd the brightness of his form ; 



Love and affection o'er him spread their wings, 



And Nature, like a nurse, attends him with 



Her sweetest looks. The humming-bee will bound 



From out the flower, nor sting his baby hand ; 



The birds sing to him from the sunny tree ; 



And suppliantly the fierce-eyed mastiff fawns 



Beneath his feet, to court the playful touch. 



To rise all rosy from the arms of sleep, 



And, like the sky-bird, hail the bright-cheek'd morn 



With gleeful song, then o'er the bladed mead 



To chase the blue-wing' d butterfly, or play 



With curly streams, or led by watchful Love, 



To hear the chorus of the trooping waves, 



When the young breezes laugh them into life ! 



Or listen to the mimic ocean-roar, 



Within the womb of spiral sea-shell wove ; 



From sight and sound to catch intense delight, 



And infant gladness from each happy face ; 



These are the guileless duties of the day : 



And when at length reposeful evening comes, 



Joy-worn, he nestles in the welcome couch, 



With kisses warm upon his cheek to dream 



Of heaven, till morning wakes him to the world. 



The scene hath changed into a curtain'd room, 



Where mournful glimmers of the mellow sun 



Lie dreaming on the walls ! Dim-eyed and sad, 



