To An Infant Daughter.

Sweet gem of infant fairy-flowers!     Thy smiles on life' unclosing hours,     Like sunbeams lost in summer showers,     They wake my fears;     When reason knows its sweets and sours,     They'll change to tears.     God help thee, little senseless thing!     Thou, daisy-like of early spring,     Of ambush'd winter's hornet sting     Hast yet to tell;     Thou know'st not what to-morrows bring:     I wish thee well.     But thou art come, and soon or late     'Tis thine to meet the frowns of fate,     The harpy grin of envy's hate,     And mermaid-smiles     Of worldly folly's luring bait,     That youth beguiles.     And much I wish, whate'er may be     The lot, my child, that falls to thee,     Nature may never let thee see     Her glass betimes,     But keep thee from my failings free,--     Nor itch at rhymes.     Lord knows my heart, it loves thee much;     And may my feelings, aches, and such,     The pains I meet in folly's clutch     Be never thine:     Child, it's a tender string to touch,     That sounds "thou'rt mine."