Classic Poem

L'anniversaire.

My little Heloise, d'ye know
That you were born one year ago?
The past hath been your blithest year,
Though smiles your future life shall cheer.
See! they have brought you garlands gay;
Do put them on, and let me pray,
Since you look charming in this crown,
For plaything you'll not pull it down.

A child, who old can scarcely grow,
Knowing to whom your birth you owe,
Predicts that you to please will learn —
'Tis Love — you'll know him in your turn!
From him for scores of reasons flee,
Your foster-brother though he be;
Your rose-trimmed bonnet he would take,
A plaything for himself to make.

Hope, with her brilliant wings outspread,
Is gaily fluttering o'er your head!
With her prismatic tints endowed,
What smiling forms around you crowd!
Yes, to her gentle dreams resigned,
Joys in abundance shall you find,
If for each age, till all is o'er,
Some plaything still she keep in store.