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Thou at once full-born
A CHILD'S EVENING PRAYER. ERE on my bed my limbs I lay,
God grant me grace my prayers to say:
be my parents' hope and joy;
LOVE'S APPARITION AND
AN ALLEGORIC ROMANCE.
LIKE a lone Arab, old and blind,
Some caravan had left behind,
Who sits beside a ruin'd well,
Where the shy sand-asps bask and swell;
Lie lifeless at my feet !
And stood beside my seat;
As she was wont to do;-
There is no resurrection for the Love
LOVE, HOPE, AND PATIENCE IN
O’ER wayward childhood would’st thou hold firm
rule, And sun thee in the light of happy faces; Love, Hope, and Patience, these must be thy graces, And in thine own heart let them first keep school. For as old Atlas on his broad neck places Heaven's starry globe, and there sustains it ;-50 Do these upbear the little world below Of Education,-Patience, Love, and Hope. Methinks, I see them group'd in seemly show, The straiten'd arms upraised, the palms aslope, And robes that touching as adown they flow, Distinctly blend, like snow emboss'd in snow.
O part them never! If Hope prostrate lie,
Love too will sink and die. But Love is subtle, and doth proof derive From her own life that Hope is yet alive; And bending o'er, with soul-transfusing eyes, And the soft murmurs of the mother dove, Wooes back the fleeting spirit, and half supplies ;Thus Love repays to Hope what Hope first gave to
* Printed in The Keepsake, 1830, with the following title :“The Poet's Answer to a Lady's Question respecting the accomplishments most desirable in an instructress of children."
Yet haply there will come a weary day,
When overtask'd at length Both Love and Hope beneath the load give way. Then with a statue's smile, a statue's strength, Stands the mute sister, Patience, nothing loth, And both supporting does the work of both.
A BIRD, who for his other sins
Had lived amongst the Jacobins ; Though like a kitten amid rats, Or callow tit in nest of bats, He much abhorr'd all democrats; Yet nathless stood in ill report Of wishing ill to Church and Court, Though he'd nor claw, nor tooth, nor sting, And learnt to pipe God save the King; Though each day did new feathers bring, All swore he had a leathern wing ; Nor polish'd wing, nor feather'd tail, Nor down-clad thigh would aught avail ; And though-his tongue devoid of gallHe civilly assured them all :“ A bird am I of Phoebus' breed, And on the sunflower cling and feed; My name, good sirs, is Thomas Tit !" The bats would hail him brother cit, Or, at the furthest, cousin-german. At length the matter to determine,
He publicly denounced the vermin;
Alas, poor Bird ! and ill-bestarr'd