Alaric Alexander Watts
Alaric Alexander Watts Poems
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On The Death Of A Child
Sweet flower! with flowers I strew thy narrow bed!
Sweets to the sweet! Farewell! ~ Shakespeare.
A cloud is on my heart and brow,
The tears are in my eyes,
And wishes fond, all idle now,
Are stifled into sighs;—
As musing on thine early doom,
Thou bud of beauty snatched to bloom,
So soon, 'neath milder skies,
I turn, thy painful struggle past,
From what thou art to what thou wast!
I think of all thy winning ways,
Thy frank but boisterous glee,
Thy arch, sweet smiles, thy coy delays,
Thy step, so light and free;
Thy sparkling ...
HE left his home with a bounding heart,
For the world was all before him;
And he felt it scarce a pain to part,
Such sun-bright beams came o'er him.
He turned him to visions of future years,
The rainbow's hues were around them;
And a father's bodings - a mother's tears -
Might not weigh with the hopes, that crowned them.