A CHILD <br /> <br /> <br />Model of thy parent dear, <br />Serious infant worth a fear: <br />In thy unfaultering visage well <br />Picturing forth the son of Tell, <br />When on his forehead, firm and good, <br />Motionless mark, the apple stood; <br />Guileless traitor, rebel mild, <br />Convict unconscious, culprit-child! <br />Gates that close with iron roar <br />Have been to thee thy nursery door; <br />Chains that chink in cheerless cells <br />Have been thy rattles and thy bells; <br />Walls contrived for giant sin <br />Have hemmed thy faultless weakness in; <br />Near thy sinless bed black Guilt <br />Her discordant house hath built, <br />And filled it with her monstrous brood- <br />Sights, by thee not understood- <br />Sights of fear, and of distress, <br />That pass a harmless infant's guess! <br /> <br /> <br />But the clouds, that overcast <br />Thy young morning, may not last. <br />Soon shall arrive the rescuing hour, <br />That yields thee up to Nature's power. <br />Nature, that so late doth greet thee, <br />Shall in o'er-flowing measure meet thee. <br />She shall recompense with cost <br />For every lesson thou hast lost. <br />Then wandering up thy sire's lov'd hill, <br />Thou shalt take thy airy fill <br />Of health and pastime. Birds shall sing <br />For thy delight each May morning. <br />'Mid new-yean'd lambkins thou shalt play, <br />Hardly less a lamb than they. <br />Then thy prison's lengthened bound <br />Shall be the horizon skirting round. <br />And, while thou fill'st thy lap with flowers, <br />To make amends for wintery hours, <br />The breeze, the sunshine, and the place, <br />Shall from thy tender brow efface <br />Each vestige of untimely care, <br />That sour restraint had graven there; <br />And on thy every look impress <br />A more excelling childishness. <br /> <br /> <br />So shall be thy days beguil'd, <br />Thornton Hunt, my favourite child.<br /><br />Charles Lamb<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-t-l-h/
