Henry Alford

Amor Mundanus.

Freed from the womb, and from the bounds With which the stepdame infancy Our days of pupilage surrounds, We spring up beautiful and free; Divine in form, divine in grace, All wonderful to those who look Upon the heavenly--printed face, In which, as in a living book, The characters of high descent Are seen with air and motion blent. Behold the curious Babe exploring The furniture of its new earth; And Time with ministrant hand restoring The bloom and strength it lost in birth; It is as though some magic power Had shut the senses of a Bride, And in strange air from hour to hour She breathed away the summer--tide, And woke and found herself alone, And all her sweet fore--castings gone. It is as though she should not wear The weeds of sober widowhood, But just to memory give a tear, Then rise with stirring hope renewed; And ere the period of the Sun, In joyful garments habited, Leaning upon another One Should walk the flowery path to wed; And build among new children's eyes A home of rooted sympathies. Child--that dost evermore desire For something thou canst call thine own; In summer--sun, by winter--fire, Jealously bent to rule alone; Thou gatherest round the plenteous store Wherewith to sate thy longing sight; Thou ever hast, and wishest more, And so thou schoolest thy delight To drink at every little stream, And bask in every daily beam. And when thy limbs are proud and strong, Thou seekest out a home to last, Among the dainties that belong To the strange shore where thou art cast; For kisses and kind words bestowed Thou quittest hope, and all content Thou takest up thy calm abode In the country of thy banishment; Careless of tidings that relate To winning back thy lost estate.