LINES

TO HELEN, A NEW-BORN INFANT, 1821.

She lives — that first pulsation of the heart
 Is life! — receive, dear babe, thy destin'd part;
 Yet frail thy being as the op'ning rose
 When chill the rude wind blows. 

But ah, be like the blossom of the vale,
 Lov'd infant, shelter'd from the mountain gale;
 On whose meek head descend no ruffling showers,
 Who lives the span of flowers. 

And far from thee may sorrow's tempest bend,
 Nor ever wasting pangs the bosom rend;
 Calm be thy day of life, and o'er its bloom
 May evening mildly come!