Port Tobacco Times, And Charles County Advertiser

POETRY.
From the Boston Chronotype.

TO A BEAUTIFUL CHILD,
WHO CAME INTO THE MELODEON, SUNDAY BEFORE LAST, DURING PRAYER.

O sweet little wanderer, whence comest thou,
With thy fairy-like form and thy clear sunny brow?
Art thou one of the thousands of mortal birth,
Or art thou an angel descended to earth?
For an angel's soul, and a heavenly grace
Beam out in the smile of thy gentle face—
And the light that plays in thy sparkling eye,
Seem caught from the glory beyond the sky.
And the look that thou wearest, of calm delight,
Tells the heart is pure and the spirit bright—
The spirit of innocence guarding thy breast,
From the touch of sin and the gloomy unrest.
Beautiful stranger! so young and so fair!
Thou art welcome here to the house of prayer!
Fit emblem art thou of that life divine,
Which is taught us here at Religion's shrine.
Now calmly a while, with ear intent,
Thou dost list to the teachings eloquent,
Of him who pleadeth the cause of right.
In behalf of a nation whose star is bright—
But its rising is dimmed by the clouds that lie
Around its path in the shadowy sky!
But anon thou art weary, for what dost thou know
Of the troubles of mortals, their shame or woe!
Five blooming summers can scarce have shed
Their genial serenity o'er thy head;—
They have filled thee with joy and with rosy health;
They were summers to thee of unmeasured wealth.
Thy heart has perchance ne'er beat to sorrow,
Thou hast ever before thee a golden morrow.
Now the voice of thy drowsy ear is hushed;
And thy cheek with a milder glow is flushed;
More gently thy pulses come and go,
Soft is thy breathing, deep and low,—
Thou hast set thy sail on a stormless sea,
And the portals of dream-land ope to thee!
Not a summer bird in his downy nest,
Hath a calmer sleep or a sweeter rest—
Not a dreaming bird on a summer night,
Not a morning lark in his airy flight,
Is half so holy or fair a sight.
Sleep on! sleep on! there's a time in store,
When the dreams of thy childhood will come no more
When the sterner impulses of manhood's joy,
Will usurp the delights of the gentle boy.
And then thou must wake from thine early dream,
And bend thy thought to a nobler theme;
'Twill be thine to toil in the battle of life
Thou must bear thy part in the mortal strife!
O then—may'st thou ever wear, as now,
A heart unstained and a spotless brow!
May the flower expand in thine after years
Fulfilling the promise that now appears,
In the bud that swells in thy life to-day
May it blossom and bloom in thy heart alway.