I THINK of thee, whene'er the sun his beams
Then she left the apartment, and after her son hasten'd quickly,Hoping somewhere to find him, and with her words of affectionGladden his heart, for he, the excellent son, well deserved it.Smilingly, when she had closed the door, continued the father"What a wonderful race of people are women and children.All of them fain would do whatever pleases their fancy,And we're only alow'd to praise them and flatter them freely.Once for all there's truth in the ancient proverb which tells us:He who moves not forward, goes backward! a capital saying!"
She alone 'tis blesses him.
Mine he was! Yes, only mine!
Their praises we won't tell;They'll stand inspection well.They're fond of what is new,--And yet, to show they're true,Nor seal nor letter's wanted;To all have wings been granted.The pretty birds behold,--Such beauties ne'er were sold!
Now indistinct, now clothed in purest rays!How could the smallest comfort here be flowing?The ebb and flood, the coming and the going!