Beauty

Boast not

Of thy loved lot;

Though pure as forest snow,

And of bright vermilion glow.

The fairer that ye grow

Sooner may ye spot

'Tis true, I wot,

"Tis so!

Maiden

Fond and gay!

Be happy while you may;

Sadness with cold grimace,

May clothe thy sweet and gentle face,

And thus unkindly chase

Pleasure far away;

Short is life's day,

Alas!

Sing

As birds sing

While on the wing

With matin songs they rise,
Toward the empyrean skies,

With gladness in their eyes.
The fond harp bring

And sweetly string

Its voice.

Love

As flowers do

The morn's bright dew;

Seek as they do the sun,

When his warm rays are but begun

Through the cold air to run,

Cheering and new;

Ever true

One!

Mildness

Suits best

Soft woman's breast;

For to be sweet and kind

Are the engaging beauties of her mind!

Wherefore then be blind

To joy so blest.

Sweet rest

Find.

Life

Flies along

Like the zephyr strong;

From childhood up to man

There seems but one short span.

Our hopes awhile we fan

With love and song,

Then mix among

The wan!

Death

Is most sure;

None can endure,

Though some have longer days

To live and hope, to know and praise

The Almighty mover of their ways.

The sting that will not cure,

Health pure

Allays.

Grave,

Ye get all,

Both great and small;

The false one and the just;

Down in thy cold and sacred trust

There enters no base lust;

In thy dark hall,

Alas! we fall

To dust.

A DAUGHTER'S GIFT TO HER FATHER,

ON HIS BIRTH-DAY.

RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO

MRS. THOMAS GODDEN LITTLEWOOD,

OF LINCOLN'S-INN-FIELDS, LONDON.

SHE loved her father, and look'd up to him,
Even as the flower looks up in loveliness

To him who reared it in the cultured bower:-
Who water'd its young germ, and inly sighed,
When the loud blast, unmindful of its bloom,
Blew all unkindly on its fragile form,

So did she love her father; for she knew

He was the guardian of her infant years;
And thus again, like the fair flower pourtray'd,
Gave beauty for his kindness!