SONNET VI.

When by God's inward light, a happy child,

I walk'd in joy, as in the open air,

It seem'd to my young thought the Sabbath smiled

With glory and with love. So still, so fair,

The Heavens look'd ever on that hallow'd morn,

That, without aid of memory, something there

Had surely told me of its glad return.

How did my little heart at evening burn,

When, fondly seated on my father's knee,

Taught by the lip of love, I breathed the prayer,

Warm from the fount of infant piety!

Much is my spirit changed; for years have brought

Intenser feeling and expanded thought;

— Yet, must I envy every child I see!