To A ******

Thy parents, boy, are on the deep,
The wide and pathless sea;
But He, who wafts their sail, will keep
A father's eye on thee.

For He hath seen what they have done;
And He hath heard their prayer,—
He knows they've left their darling son
Beneath His guardian care.

The tenderness thy mother felt,
When to her breast she drew
Her child, and at His altar knelt,
His love will still outdo.

And He will guard thy parents too,
Upon a foreign shore;
For His the eye, at single view,
To look creation o'er.

He'll let thy little image cling
To all their thoughts by day;
And nightly, like a cherub thing,
About their slumbers play.

In many a bright and blissful dream
They'll kiss thy rosy cheek;
Thy laughing, sparkling eye will beam—
Thy prattling tongue will speak.

Thy tender arms, so warm and fair,
Around their necks will twine;
They'll feel thy silken, sunny hair,
That ruby lip of thine.

While oft they dwell on scenes behind
Of dear domestic joy,
The loveliest object brought to mind
Will be their smiling boy.