BEAUTIFUL CHILD.

Evening Star, Issue 3107, 3 February 1873, Page 2

BEAUTIFUL CHILD.

(BY THE LATE W. a. H. SIGOURNEY, U.S., AUTHOR OF “BEAUTIFUL SNOW.”)

About two years ago we published a few verses, under the heading “Beautiful Snow,” copies of which were sought for with such eagerness that, in compliance with special request, they were reproduced. Our readers will remember that they were suggested by the death of an unfortunate woman, once the wife of the writer, in the winter of 1863, at St. Louis, U.S. The subject of the following lines and prayer was their child, and the poem itself acquires additional interest through its ’being the gifted writer’s last published effort.. He committed suicide on the night of the following 22ud April Beautiful child, by thy father’s knee. In the mystic future what wilt thou be ? A demon of sin, or an angel sublime, A poisonous upas, or innocent thyme, A spirit of evil Hashing down With the lurid light of a fiery crown, Or gliding up with a shining track Like the morning star, which never looks back ; Daintiest dreamer that ever smiled, Which wilt thou be, my beautiful child ?

Beautiful child in my garden bowers, Friend of the butterfly, birds, and flowers ; Pure as the sparkling crystalline stream, Jewels of earth, they fairy eyes beam ; Was there ever a whiter soul than thine, Worshipped by love in a mortal shrine ? My heart thou hast gladdened for two sweet

years With rainbows of hopes through mists of tears— Mists beyond which the sunny smile, With its halo of glory, beams all the while. Beautiful child, to thy look is given A gleam serene, not of earth, but heaven ; With thy tell-tale eyes and prattling tongue, Would thou could’st ever thus be young. Like the liquid strains of the mocking bird, From stair to hall thy voice is heard ; How oft in thy garden nooks thou’rt found, With flowers thy curly head around; And kneeling beside me with figure so quaint, Oh ! who would not doat on ray infant saint '!

Beautiful child, what thy fate shall be, Perchance, is wisely hidden from me ; A fallen star thou may’st leave my side,_ And of sorrow and shame become the bride, Shivering, quivering, thro’ the cold street, With a curse before and behind thy feet — Ashamed to live and afraid to die— No home, no friend, and a wild storm sky; jlerciful Father, my brain grows wild ; Oh ! keep from evil my beautiful child. Beautiful child, may’st thou soar above* A warbling cherub of joy and love ; A drop on a heaving crystal sea — A blossom on life’s immortal tree : Floating, blooming evermore, In the blessed light of the golden shore ; And, as I gaze on thy sinless bloom And thy radiant face, they dispel my gloom I feel He will keep thee undefiled, And His love protect my beautiful child.