TO OUR LITTLE JOY-PRINCE—CHERUB DELIGHT
Come! thou little rosy urchin; come, I pray thee.
Sorrow’s hand no longer here shall delay thee.
Down among the tall, green grasses swaying,
Where the lambs and lambkins glad are playing,
In meadows warm, where the lassies fair, and the laddies, are a Maying,
In flower-decked fields we likewise should be straying.
By still waters bright,
Where the wild ducks curve in rapid flight,
Basking in the warm sunshine;
Drinking in a joy divine.
In cool gardens, full of flowers,
Sweeter than the famed Hercynian bowers;
Happy here, we should while away life’s fleeting hours.
On soft beds of fragrant ferns and roses,
Where the Love god oft reposes,
By the red-winged black-bird’s nest,
Where some tired mortals so long to lie down and rest,—
Blest companions of the birds and bees,—
Here, shall not we fall asleep beneath the trees?
Puck and Pan, they may come find us if they can.
Or Fairy Mab, with cunning spying,
Discover the lolling rushes, where we are lying.
But that fretful little hunch-back Ogress Woman,—She,
who ever prates of care and pain,—
She our hiding place shall seek in vain.
Come, then, thou little rosy regent Prince of Peace and Pleasure,
In fields and woods to-day, we shall squander many hours of joy and leisure.