The book thou givest, dear as such,
  Shall bear thy dearer name;
And many a word the leaves shall touch,
  For thee who form'dst the same !
And on them, many a thought shall grow
  'Neath memory's rain and sun,
Of thee, glad child, who dost not know
  That thought and pain are one !

Yes ! thoughts of thee, who satest oft,
  A while since, at my side
So wild to tame, to move so soft,
  So very hard to chide:
The childish vision at thine heart,
  The lesson on the knee;
The wandering looks which would depart,
  Like gulls, across the sea !

The laughter, which no half-belief
  In wrath could all suppress:
The falling tears, which looked like grief,
  And were but gentleness:
The fancies sent, for bliss, abroad,
  As Eden's were not done --
Mistaking still the cherub's sword
  For shining of the sun !

The sportive speech with wisdom in 't --
  The question strange and bold --
The childish fingers in the print
  Of God's creative hold:
The praying words in whispers said,
  The sin with sobs confest;
The leaning of the young meek head
  Upon the Saviour's breast !

The gentle consciousness of praise,
  With hues that went and came;
The brighter blush, a word could raise.
  Were that -- a father's name !
The shadow on thy smile for each
  That on his face could fall !
So quick hath love been, thee to teach,
  What soon it teacheth all.

Sit still as erst beside his feet !
  The future days are dim, --
But those will seem to thee most sweet
  Which keep thee nearest him !
Sit at his feet in quiet mirth,
  And let him see arise
A clearer sun and greener earth
  Within thy loving eyes !

Ah, loving eyes ! that used to lift
  Your childhood to my face --
That leave a memory on the gift
  I look on in your place --
May bright-eyed hosts your guardians be
  From all but thankful tears, --
While, brightly as you turn on me,
  Ye meet th' advancing years !