190 SELECT POETRY

And when I look into his eyes, and stroke his
thoughtful brow,

I dare not think what I should feel, were I to lose
him now

T have a son, a second son, a simple child of three,

Vl not declare how bright and fair his little
features bo;

How silver sweet those tones of his when he
prattles on my knee.

I do not think his light blue eyes are, like his
brother’s, keen,

Nor his brow so full of childish thought as his
hath ever been ;

But his little heart’s a fountain pure of mind and
tender feeling,

And his very look’s a gleam of light, rich depths
of love revealing.

When he walks with me, the country folks, who
pass him in the street,

Will shout for joy, and bless my boy, he looks’so
mild and sweet.

A playfellow he is to all, and yet, with cheerful
tone,

Will sing his song of love, when left to play alone.

His presence is like sunshine, sent to gladden
home and hearth,

To comfort us in all our griefs, and sweeten all
our mirth.

Should he grow up to riper years, God grant his
heart may prove

As meet a home for heavenly grace, as now for
earthly love ;