I saw him at his sport erewhile,
The bright exulting boy,

Like summer's lightning came the smile
Of his young spirit's joy;

A flash that wheresoe'er it broke,

To life undreamt-of beauty woke.

His fair locks wav'd in sunny play,

By a clear fountain's side,

Where jewel-colour'd pebbles lay

Beneath the shallow tide ;

And pearly spray at times would meet

The glancing of his fairy feet.

He twin'd him wreaths of all spring-flowers, Which drank that streamlet's dew;

He flung them o'er the wave in showers,

Till, gazing, scarce I knew

Which seem'd more pure, or bright, or wild, The singing fount or laughing child.

To look on all that joy and bloom

Made earth one festal scene,

Where the dull shadow of the tomb

Seem'd as it ne'er had been.

How could one image of decay

Steal o'er the dawn of such clear day?

I saw once more that aspect bright—
The boy's meek head was bow'd

In silence o'er the Book of Light,
And like a golden cloud,

The still cloud of a pictur'd sky--

His locks droop'd round it lovingly.

And if my

heart had deem'd him fair,

When in the fountain glade,

A creature of the sky and air,

Almost on wings he play'd;

Oh! how much holier beauty now
Lit the young human being's brow!

The being born to toil, to die,

To break forth from the tomb,

Unto far nobler destiny

Than waits the sky-lark's plume! I saw him, in that thoughtful hour,

Win the first knowledge of his dower.

The soul, the awakening soul I saw,

My watching eye could trace

The shadows of its new-born awe,

Sweeping o'er that fair face :

As o'er a flower might pass the shade
By some dread angel's pinion made!

The soul, the mother of deep fears,
Of high hopes infinite,

Of glorious dreams, mysterious tears,

Of sleepless inner sight;

Lovely, but solemn, it arose,

Unfolding what no more might close.

The red-leaved tablets,* undefiled,

As yet, by evil thought

Oh! little dream'd the brooding child,

Of what within me wrought,

"All this, and more than this, is now engraved upon the

red-leaved tablets of my heart."-HAYWOOD.

While his

heart first burn'd and stirr'd,

young

And quiver'd to the eternal word.

And reverently my spirit caught

The reverence of his gaze;

A sight with dew of blessing fraught
To hallow after-days;

To make the proud heart meekly wise,

By the sweet faith in those calm

eyes.

It seem'd as if a temple rose

Before me brightly there,

And in the depths of its repose

My soul o'erflowed with

prayer,

Feeling a solemn presence nigh

The power of infant sanctity!

O Father! mould my heart once more,

By thy prevailing breath!