Page:Poems, in two volumes (IA poemsintwovolume00word).pdf/126

This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

114

While thou art mine, my little Love,This cannot be a sorrowful grove;Contentment, hope, and Mother's glee,I seem to find them all in thee:Here's grass to play with, here are flowers;I'll call thee by my Darling's name;Thou hast, I think, a look of ours,Thy features seem to me the same;His little Sister thou shalt be;And, when once more my home I see,I'll tell him many tales of Thee."
This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.