TO A CHILD ON ITS BIRTHDAY

 

TO A CHILD ON ITS BIRTHDAY 

by  MRS. HEMANS 

WHERE sucks the bee now?- Summer is 

flying, 
Leaves on the grass-plot faded are lying; 

Violets are gone from the grassy dell, 

With the cowslip-cups where the fairies dwell; 

The rose from the garden hath passed away, 

Yet happy, fair boy! Is thy natal day. 

For love bids it welcome, the love which hath smiled 

Ever around thee, my gentle child! 

Watching thy footsteps, and guarding thy 

bed, 

And pouring out joy on thy sunny head.

Roses may vanish, but this will stay- 

Happy and bright is thy natal day.  

References:

Chatterbox 1877