Thine, my dear girl, no longer are;
Another claims them for his own.

The graver duties of a wife

Must now succeed thy gayer hours; Though sunshine cheer thy gen'ral life, Thou'lt find a day or two with show'rs.

Perhaps at distant date, another,

Still fonder era may appear,

When duties that attend the mother
Will fill thy soul with many a care.

When with a parent's heartfelt joy

Thou bear'st thy babe upon thy arm, The smile that beams upon thy boy Will fly at thoughts that bode his harm.

Perhaps but no; that cannot be;

Yet still the thought will cross my mind: Perhaps (I'll whisper it), even he,

Thy "all the world," may prove unkind.

Perish the thought! nor lend thine ear

To one on whom the world has frown'd; Nor suffer his suspicious fear,

To raise a doubt thy peace to wound.

Thy goodness would the savage tame;
Thy loveliness the ruffian bend;

Then fear not him who boasts the name
Of husband, guide, protector, friend.

But still, thou may'st not entertain
The silly thoughts that oft prevail;
Thoughts, far the vainest of the vain,

That mar the good they would entail.

Think not that nought but smiles, fond child, Will play upon his curling lip;

Nor frame ideas, passing wild,

Nothing but nectar there to sip.

Think not that frowns will ne'er o'erspread The brow that beams on thee so fairly;

Banish such fondness from thy head,
Thou'lt pay, thou'lt pay for it too dearly.

In commerce with life's busy scenes,

A thousand crosses may arise;

Some disappointments intervene

To cloud the bliss before his eyes.

Some villain may his trust abuse,
To gain his own too worldly end;
And, e'en at risk of ruin, use

The credit of his hapless friend.

Believe me, scenes like these are rife,
The common features of the day.

Whatever tract or path of life,

We hold the tenor of our way.

Expect not then to see the beams

Of pleasure brighten in his eyes;

Such joyous looks and sparkling gleams

Must yield to frowns, his heart to sighs.

If through this world's uncertain way,

Such hours as these should ever come; The smile, the gentle smile assay,

That should adorn "the wife at home."

The graces of the softer sex

Were by indulgent Nature giv'n,

To soothe mankind when storms perplex, And make his earth to taste of heav'n.

When all things fail, still there are pow'rs, Charms cent'red solely in a wife,

To cheer our melancholy hours,

And smooth the roughest path of life.

Then use those pow'rs, thy utmost sum;
Employ thy ev'ry winning grace;

And teach him when he seeks his home,

He'll find that home his happiest place.

ON A PARENT PRESENTING

HIS PORTRAIT TO HIS TWO SONS.

Accept, dear boys, belov'd and only boys,
Sole objects of my hopes, my fears, and joys,
Accept with filial love, and filial fire,
The counterfeit presentment of your sire.
Nor think it but a bauble for the wall,
Tadorn the parlour or to grace the hall.
Had nature stamp'd my figure and my face,
With ev'ry human beauty, ev'ry grace,
The idle vanity of being view'd,

The gaze of fops and folly's paltry brood;
Such charms had ne'er prevail'd on me to stand
The subject of the tedious limner's hand;
Far other motives fill'd my anxious view,
And their intent, the future good of you.