Classic Poem

Dear Babe, whose meaning by fond looks exprest,
Thy only little eloquence, might move
The sternest soul to tenderness and love,
While thus, nor taught by Age to fawn, nor drest
In Treachery's mask, nor Falsehood's glittering vest,
Thou sweetly smilest, at the pleasing sight,
Wretch as I am, unwonted to Delight,
A transient gleam of gladness cheers my breast:
Yet soon again bursts forth th' unbidden tear,
And inly bleeds my heart, while I divine
What chilling blasts may nip thy riper year,
What blackening storms may cloud thy life's decline;
What for myself I feel, for thee I fear:
Nay! God forbid my woes should e'er be thine!