Poetry Archives

Lady! who didst—with angel-look and smile,
And the sweet lustre of those dear, dark eyes,
Gracefully bend before the font of Christ,
In humble adoration, faith, and prayer!
Oh!—as the infant pledge of friends beloved
Received from thy pure lips its future name,
Sweetly unconscious look’d the baby-boy!
How beautifully helpless—and how mild!
—Methought, a seraph spread her shelt’ring wings
Over the solemn scene; and as the sun,
In its full splendour, on the altar came,
God’s blessing seem’d to sanctify the deed.