Classic Poem

O heard you not its little voice? That was
Its first earth-cry — ah, when may be its last?
Our household echoes, at the unusual noise,
Start, and seem all aghast!

Echoes, be not afraid; it is a voice
That soon will be the endearment of our home;
And ye will take it up as the most choice
Reclaimer when I roam.

The nooks and corners will take up its grief;
Or when it laughs and prattles, so will they;
But all will be so sadly quiet, if
Our darling go away!

Come, little stranger — stranger be no more,
But bide with us, whom thou art come to bless
As we o'er thee, so may'st thou yet watch o'er
Our second childishness

Let me not hold the thought that any fate
Might take us from thee in thy infancy:
The World shuns poverty, and poor's thy state —
Ah! who would care for thee?

But I'll not fear: upon the lonely hill,
The heather bell and daisy grow up wild —
And O, how beautiful! Who tends them, will
Not leave a helpless child

Thou'rt come, my darling, to a beauteous earth;
And thou wilt walk in wonder as I do:
Fine visions have been with me from my birth:
They will be with thee too.