.NTMyMw.MzY2MDQ

--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.