Yes, still he's fixed, and sleeping! This silence too the while It's very hush and creeping Seem whispering us a smile:- Seems going by one's ear, Like parting wings of Cherubim, Who say, "We've finished here." To J** H**, FOUR YEARS OLD. AH little ranting Johnny, For ever blithe and bonny, And singing nonny, nonny, With daisies, weeds, and roses; And strutting in and out so, Or dancing all about so, With cock-up nose so lightsome, As if their veins had wine in; Heav'n seems to have made it newly, It breaks into such sweetness, With merry-lipped completeness ;— Ah Jack, ah Gianni mio, As blithe as Laughing Trio, -Sir Richard, too, you rattler, So christened from the Tatler, My Bacchus in his glory, My tricksome Puck, my Robin, As full of feints and frolic as Ah! Dick, ah Dolce-riso, How can you, can you be so? One cannot turn a minute, But mischief-there you're in it, A getting at my books, John, With mighty bustling looks, John; Or poking at the roses, In midst of which your nose is; Or climbing on a table, No matter how unstable, And turning up your quaint eye And half-shut teeth with " Mayn't I?" Or else you're off at play, John, Just as you'd be all day, John, With hat or not, as happens, And there you dance, and clap hands, Or on the grass go rolling, Or plucking flow'rs, or bowling, And getting me expenses With losing balls o'er fences; Or, as the constant trade is, Are fondled by the ladies, With "What a young rogue this is!" Reforming him with kisses; Till suddenly you cry out, As if you had an eye out, So desperately tearful, The sound is really fearful; |