See yon blithe child that dances in our sight! <br />Can gloomy shadows fall from one so bright? <br />Fond mother, whence these fears? <br />While buoyantly he rushes o'er the lawn, <br />Dream not of clouds to stain his manhood's dawn, <br />Nor dim that sight with tears. <br /> <br />No cloud he spies in brightly glowing hours, <br />But feels as if the newly vested bowers <br />For him could never fade: <br />Too well we know that vernal pleasures fleet, <br />But having him, so gladsome, fair, and sweet, <br />Our loss is overpaid. <br /> <br />Amid the balmiest flowers that earth can give <br />Some bitter drops distil, and all that live <br />A mingled portion share; <br />But, while he learns these truths which we lament, <br />Such fortitude as ours will sure be sent, <br />Such solace to his care.<br /><br />Sara Coleridge<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-child/
