the world is with me, and its many cares,
its woes — its wants — the anxious hopes and fears
that wait on all terrestrial affairs —
the shades of former and of future years —
foreboding fancies, and prophetic tears,
quelling a spirit that was once elate:—
heavens! what a wilderness the earth appears,
where youth, and mirth, and health are out of date!
but no — a laugh of innocence and joy
resounds, like music of the fairy race,
and gladly turning from the world’s annoy
i gaze upon a little radiant face,
and bless, internally, the merry boy
who “makes a son-shine in a shady-place.”
