Page:Poems for Children Sigourney 1836.pdf/60



We love the flower that decks the spray, And brightens through the summer-day, We praise the fruit, whose ripening hue Of gold or crimson meets our view; But with delight far more refin'd, Behold the fair, expanding mind, Whose radiant blossoms charm the eye, Whose hallow'd fruits can never die. An eye there was whose tender beam Hung o'er thy being's earliest dream, That once upon this rising morn Wept tears of joy that thou wert born; And now, perchance, with watchful zeal, With such pure love as angels feel, Regards thee from that realm of day, Where every tear is wip'd away. Oh, choose the path that Mother trod, Belov'd on earth, and blest of God;