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Children of
my happier prime,
When One yet lived with me, and
threw
Her rainbow over life and time,
Even Hope,
my bride, and mother to you!
O, nurtured in sweet
pastoral air,
And fed on flowers and light and dew
Of morning meadows -spare, ah, spare
Reproach; spare,
and upbraid me not
That, yielding scarce to reckless
mood,
But jealous of your future lot,
I sealed you
in a fate subdued.
Have I not saved you from the
dread
Theft, and ignoring which need be
The
triumph of the insincere
Unanimous Mediocrity?
Rest, therefore, free from all despite,
Snugged in
the arms of comfortable night.
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