The Christening
(Of my Brother's infant Son, February 21, 1839.)
I.
THERE is a sound of laughter light and gay,
And hurried welcomes, as of joyful greeting;
The stir and murmur of a holiday,
The grouping of glad friends each other meeting:
And in the midst art THOU--thou tiny flower,
Whose coming hath so cheer'd this wintry hour!
II.
Helpless thou liest, young blossom of our love!
The sunshine of fond smiles around thee beaming,
Blessings call'd down on thee from Heaven above,
And every heart about thy future dreaming:--
Meek peace and utter innocence are now
The sole expression of thy baby brow.
III.
Helpless thou liest, thy little waxen face
Eagerly scann'd by our inquiring glances,
Hoping some lovely likeness there to trace,
Which fancy finds, and so thy worth enhances;
Clothing with thought mature, and power of mind,
Those infant features, yet so faintly lined.
IV.
And still thy youthful mother bendeth down
Her large, soft, loving eyes, brimful of gladness,
Her cheek almost as waxen as thine own,
Her heart as innocently free from sadness:
And still a brighter smile her red lip wears,
As each her young son's loveliness declares.
V.
And sometimes as we gaze a sigh is heard,
(Though from the happy group all grief seems banished,)
As thou recallest, little nestling bird,
Some long familiar face whose light hath vanish'd;
Some name, which yet hath power our hearts to thrill--
Some smile, whose buried beauty haunts us still!
VI.
Ah! most to Her, the early widow'd, come
Thoughts of the blossoms that from earth have perish'd;
Lost to her lone and solitary home,
Though in her brooding memory fondly cherish'd:--
Her little grandson's baby-smiles recall
Not one regretted hope of youth, but all!
VII.
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poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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