Classic Poem

To a Posthumous Infant

Child of woman, and of Heaven,
Ere thy birth, of sire bereaven,
Offspring of a widow'd dove,
Of half thy heritage of love
Defeated, ere thy little breath
Was drawn from atmosphere of death—
Smiler, that shalt ne'er beguile,
Father's tear with baby smile,
Never laugh on father's knee,
Knows thy father aught of thee?

May the spirit of the Blest,
Look upon its earthly nest?
Breathe upon thine infant slumbers,
The music of angelic numbers,
Glide into the growing soul,
To form, “to kindle, or controul?”
May the sainted parent bless,
His own, the new-born fatherless?English