Welcome this day; more grateful to my soul,
Than freshening breezes to the hectic cheek
Of sickness, or the lucid stream of life
To fainting thirst; O, welcome once again!
Let the vain bard in fiction's airy strains
Unfold mysterious tales: let him to praise
With syren flattery mark the various gods,
Who o'er thy natal day with eye benign
Indulgent paused, and hailed thee, as their own;
Let him more studious point with curious art
The planetary powers, whose presence crowned
Thy hour of birth, and wove thy future fate.
To me no fiction comes. With tenderer joy
I hail the day, whose trembling light bewitched
Thine infant eyes in strange surprise, and shot
A nameless rapture. I the day will hail,
Which gave a mother's soul its throbbing wish,
And in a father's heart poured the full tide
Of ecstasy divine. No other gods
Watched o'er thy birth, and in their arms received
The lovelier offspring of connubial bliss.
E'en at this hour, methinks, I see their joys:
With trembling hope, with earnest gaze they bend,
And each to each unfolds the dawning grace,
The mimic features; and, as fancy wills,
Blend each the faint resemblance, till it glows
Bright, as the living picture, bright, as truth:
Dearer the image grows, while they entranced
Essay to trace the varying lines of life,
And seize from night the mystic hues of fate;
Unmindful, that the storm of adverse life,
The cold, dead blight of grief, the searching frost
Of harsh misfortune, might untimely rage,
And crush the opening blossom, in the shade
Its beauties hide, and, like the lifeless shrub,
In dreary solitudes neglected leave,
The sport and passion of the wintry blast:
Unmindful, that the orphan's lonely tears
Might frequent wet those cheeks, where innocence
Slept, veiled in virgin blushes, slept with love.
O! happy they; for in that blessed trance
They knew but pleasure: in that tranquil face
They saw but virtue, pure, as ever cheered
An angel's habitation: in that hour
They dreamed with hope, nor knew the vision vain;
Nor knew the father parted from the child,
Ere fifteen winters swept their sullen course.
Mysterious heaven! yet, if the souls of those,
Who dwell in virtue, who with peace and love
Smooth life's rough paths, and lend to misery's cry
An ear of grace, and dry the widow's tears;
If to those souls, when hence removed, be given,
Clad in etherial light, to visit here,
And hover round the precincts of the good,
Thou, sainted spirit, who with fostering care
Watched o'er thy .mw-parser-output .wst-asc{font-variant:all-small-caps}.mw-parser-output .wst-asc-initials{white-space:nowrap}.mw-parser-output .wst-asc-initials>span:not(:first-child){padding-left:0.16em}.mw-parser-output .wst-asc-initials.wst-asc-initials-nospace>span:not(:first-child){padding-left:0}Clara's sweet infantine hours,
And formed her soul to harmonise with truth,
Thou too shalt smile benignant, and with me
Bless this propitious day, when in thy child
Each finer lineament of soul displayed,
Each modest virtue, each attractive charm,
Which chaste refinement lends to cultured sense,
Blend in soft union, and expressive yield
A lovelier whole, which heaven might well approve.
Yet may I ask one grateful smile on me:
And if my heart deserve the sacred boon,
So pledged, so fondly claimed, as heaven's best gift;
If e'er my heart, long torn with care and pain,
May yet indulge beneath auspicious powers
The sympathies of life: O! teach me still,
Thro each succeeding year to own this day
With holy joy: O! teach me, how to shield
From cankering care the cherub choice of truth,
And foster in the arms of virtuous love.
So to each other dear, as life declines,
Still hand in hand, our hopes and blessings one,
In the soft shades of fond, domestic peace
Together may we dwell: nor heed the hum
Of busy man, nor court the dangerous walks,
Where wild ambition leads her splendid train
To gorgeous ruin; but with blameless hearts
And unpolluted hands thro every change
The virtues cherish: may no parting pain,
Till to the bourn arrived, where all must part.
In the last hour. Sweet be the sleep of death,
Nor long the absence, till we meet in heaven,
To perfect there the union formed below.