To the memory of an infant.
Blossom of being! seen and gone;
With flowers alone we strew thy bed,
O blessed, departed one!
Whose all of life, a rosy ray,
Blushed into dawn, and passed away.
Yes, thou art gone, ere guilt had power
To stain thy cherub soul and form!
Closed is the soft ephemeral flower
That never felt a storm!
The sunbeam's smile, the zephyr's breath,
All that it knew from birth to death.
Thou wert so like a form of light,
That heaven benignly called thee hence,
Ere yet the world could breathe a blight
O'er thy sweet innocence;
And thou, that brighter home to bless,
Art passed, with all thy loveliness.