To My Infant Daughter "Ada"

Aged Three Years.

CHILD of my heart, my loved one,
 * I view thy beauties shine,

My work on earth is nearly done,
 * Yet still I feel thou'rt mine.

My treasur'd child, my beautiful,
 * With front of guileless mein

And eyes like stars—(my heart is full,
 * From wrongs I've felt and seen.)

But thou, sweet child, so young in years,—
 * Dost wonder when I sigh—

(Ah, could I weep—my deep-drawn tears
 * Are still and sunk mine eye,)

On thee I gaz'd, as thou lay calm
 * In sleep's refreshing rest,

Yet when I sleep I close that balm
 * That fills thy placid breast.

This very morn I stood beside
 * The couch whereon you lay

So still, so calm—Oh! I must hide
 * The "grief that wears away!"

And wilt thou weep thy father's death
 * When down'd in sable dress--

When I'm laid low!—no flatt'ring breath—
 * No blessing, nor caress!

Sweet Ada, thy infantive kiss
 * Is all I crave from thee,—

A brighter world, more fair than this
 * I hasten to—I'm free!

And soon I'll die:—They cannot wane
 * Thy feelings, child, astray

From him whose greatest fault hath been
 * The love of thee alway.

Farewell! Oh, on that parting word
 * I breathe a father's pray'r—

A prayer that is in Heav'n heard—
 * Borne to me, Ada, there!