SELECT POETRY.

New Zealander, Volume 9, Issue 779, 1 October 1853, Page 3

SELECT POETRY.

TO MY CHILDREN.

BY K. T . TUPPEB.

My little ones, my darling ones, my precious things of C&rth, How gladly do I triumph in the blessing of your birth ! How heartily for praises, and how earnestly for prayers, I yearn upon your loveliness, my dear delightful cares! Oh children, happy word of peace, my jewels and my gold. My truest friends till now, and still my truest friends when old; I will be everything to you, your playmate and your guide. Both Mentor and Tclcmachus, for ever at your side! I will be,everything to you, your sympathising friend, To teach and help, and lead and bless, and comfort and defend; Oh come to me, and tell me all, and ye shall find me true, A brother in adversity to fight it out for you ! Yea, sins or follies, griefs or cares, or young affection's thrall, Fear not, for I am one with you. and I have felt them all; I will be tender, just, and kind, unwilling to reprove, J will do all to bless you all, by wisdom and by love. My little ones, delighted, I review you as ye stand, A pretty troop of fairies, and young cherubs hand in hand; And tell out all your names to be a dear familiar sound Wherever English hearths and hearts about the world abound.) My eldest of the speaking eyes, my Ellen, nine years old. Thou thoughtful good example of the loving little fold, — My Ellen, they shall hear of thee, fair spirit, holy child. The truthful and the well-resolved, the liberal, and the mild. And thee, my Mary, what of thee ? the beauty of thy face— The coyly pretty whims and ways, that ray thee round with grace Oh, more than these, a dear warm heart, that still must thrill and glow With pure affection’s sunshine, and with feelings overflow! Thou, too, my gentle five-year-old, lair Margaret, the pearl,J A quiet, sick, and suffering child, sweet patient little girl; Yet gay withal, and frolicsome, at times wilt thou appear. And like a bell thy merry voice rings musical and clear. And next, my Sclwyn, precious boy, a glorious young mind,' Tbc sensitive, the passionate, the noble, and the kind. Whose light Ir.o.vn locks bedropt with gold, and large eyes full of love. And generous nature, mingle well the lion and the dove. The last, an infant toothless one, now prattling on my knee, Whose bland, benevolent soft face is shining upon me; Another silver star upon our calm domestic sky,— Another seed of happy hope, dropt kindly from on high. A happy man—be this my praise, nor riches, rank or fame,— A happy man—with means enough, no other lot or name; A happy man —with you for friends, my children and my wife, Ambition is o’ervaulted here, with ail that gladden* life!