  My dearest child, thy features oft I trace, And view the opening beauties of thy face; I see thy bosom, as the matchless dove, Impressed with virtue and the seat of love. Thy pleasing smile, more sweet than morning dew, Will gain the heart of him that’s formed for you; But if the youth should offer you his hand, Don’t be in haste, but let the bargain stand. Consult the friend who ever loves you best; For in her council you may safely rest. Oh, may your days be cast in Fortune’s bower, There safely dwell, and bless the tranquil hour. May Fortune smile, to grace thy peaceful lot, And strew thy path with sweet forget-me-not. |
|
