IV.-HESTER. 1805. WHEN maidens such as Hester die, WH Their place ye may not well supply, Though ye among a thousand try, With vain endeavour. A month or more hath she been dead, A springy motion in her gait, I know not by what name beside She did inherit. Her parents held the Quaker rule, A waking eye, a prying mind, A heart that stirs is hard to bind, My sprightly neighbour, gone before When from thy cheerful eyes a ray A V.-PARENTAL RECOLLECTIONS. FROM "POETRY FOR CHILDREN," 1809. CHILD'S a plaything for an hour; For that or for a longer space; But I knew one that to itself All seasons could control; That would have mocked the sense of pain Out of a grieved soul. Thou straggler into loving arms, Young climber up of knees, When I forget thy thousand ways Then life and all shall cease. VI.-HARMONY IN UNLIKENESS. Y Enfield lanes, and Winchmore's verdant hill, The fair Maria, as a vestal, still; my And Emma brown, exuberant in talk. WHO VII.-WORK. THO first invented work, and bound the free To the ever-haunting importunity Of business in the green fields, and the town- Task ever plies 'mid rotatory burnings, ΤΟ VIII.-ON AN INFANT DYING AS SOON AS BORN. 1828. I SAW where in the shroud did lurk A curious frame of Nature's work. A flow'ret crushèd in the bud, A nameless piece of Babyhood, Was in a cradle-coffin lying; Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying; So soon to exchange the imprisoning womb She did but ope an eye, and put A clear beam forth, then straight up shut Through glasses of mortality. Riddle of destiny, who can show What thy short visit meant, or know What thy errand here below? Shall we say, that Nature blind Check'd her hand and changed her mind, Just when she had exactly wrought A finish'd pattern without fault? Could she flag, or could she tire, Or lack'd she the Promethean fire (With her nine moons' long workings sicken'd) That should thy little limbs have quicken'd? Limbs so firm, they seem'd to assure Life of health, and days mature: ? So in mercy left the stock, And cut the branch; to save the shock And wisest clerks have miss'd the mark, That has his day; while shrivell'd crones Music framed for infant's glee, Whistle never tuned for thee; Though thou want'st not, thou shalt have them, Loving hearts were they which gave them. Let not one be missing; nurse, See them laid upon the hearse |