121
LINES.
Y Firstborn! strange and sweet it seems,To gaze upon thy placid brow,
And think the form, oft seen in dreams,
Within my arms is cradled now;
To feel thou art indeed mine own,
And clasp thee closer to my heart,
With love that seems before unknown,
But now can never more depart.
My Firstborn! tears alone could speak
The joy that rushed through every vein,
When first I pressed thy downy cheek,
With lips too weak to bless thee then,
And felt a mother's untold love
My inmost heart with rapture thrill,—
A love no earthly power can move,
No time can change, no sorrow chill.
The joy that rushed through every vein,
When first I pressed thy downy cheek,
With lips too weak to bless thee then,
And felt a mother's untold love
My inmost heart with rapture thrill,—
A love no earthly power can move,
No time can change, no sorrow chill.
My Firstborn! on that infant face,
Which seems to me so passing fair,
I love to gaze, and fondly trace
Thy father's softened features there.
Thou hast the same high, noble brow,
The same blue eye and auburn hair,
The same sweet smile,—and oh! mayest thou
In heart as well his likeness bear.
Which seems to me so passing fair,
I love to gaze, and fondly trace
Thy father's softened features there.
Thou hast the same high, noble brow,
The same blue eye and auburn hair,
The same sweet smile,—and oh! mayest thou
In heart as well his likeness bear.
