.NTMyMw.MzY2MDQ
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--The Mother, to her sleeping Child.
1
See the beauteous Baby smiling In that calm & gentle sleep Of its greif my heart beguiling Bidding me forbear to weep.
.... 2
But alas I still must sorrow; While I think, -- I still must sigh-- A cruel blight may 'ere the morrow Bid my lovely rose-bud die.--
.... 3
Yet should the blight in pity sparing Pass o'er Innocence like thine; Still I view thee, sad, despairing, Lest thy lot resemble mine.--
.... 4
Love may mark thee for delusion Freindship thy young heart deceive The World will mock they Soul's Effusion mock the underline Fool /underline that could believe.