52 
Yes! pure thoughts and high, soul-inspired, are 
springing, 
On that fan brow of innocence, pleasure, and youth, 
And Fancy her gay fleeting visions is bringing, 
Bright, witching, unreal, but dearer than truth; 
And Hope’s meteor ray, 
Will o’er each seem to play, 
Till thy heart clings with fervent emotion, 
To the shadowy things, 
Fancy shakes from her wings, 
And thou ’It love them with woman’s devotion! 
Alas, for thee, then, Child! all pure as thou art, 
Life has its sorrows, and Time will bring sadness, 
But Virtue her impress has placed on thy heart, 
To sustain it when Care shall have banished thy 
gladness; 
Yet shun the sweet smile 
Fancy yields to beguile 
