Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1835.pdf/9

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A word will fill the little heart With pleasure and with pride; It is a harsh, a cruel thing, That such can be denied.

And yet how many weary hours Those joyous creatures know; How much of sorrow and restraint They to their elders owe!

How much they suffer from our faults! How much from our mistakes! How often, too, mistaken zeal An infant’s misery makes!

We overrule, and over-teach, We curb and we confine, And put the heart to school too soon, To learn our narrow line.

No; only taught by love to love, Seems childhood’s natural task; Affection, gentleness, and hope Are all its brief years ask.

Enjoy thy happiness, sweet child, With careless heart and eye; Enjoy those few bright hours which now, E’en now, are hurrying by;

And let the gazer on thy face Grow glad with watching thee, And better, kinder;—such at least Its influence on me.