“‘No, darling infant, no! Thou seest them not at all; Thou only mark’st the rays of light Which flicker on the wall. “‘Thine untaught infant eye Can nothing clearly see; Sweet scenes of home and prison scenes Are all alike to thee. “‘Stretch, then, thy little arms, And roll thy vacant eye, Reposing on thy mother’s breast In soft security. “‘Why ope thy paly lips? What would my darling say? “My dear papa, why leave us thus? Why thus in prison stay? “‘“For poor mamma and I All lonely live at home, And every day we watch and wait, And wish papa would come?” “‘No; all alike to thee Thy mother’s grief or mirth; Nor know’st thou one of all the ills Which mark thy mournful birth. “‘Thy lips one art alone, One loving, simple grace, By nature’s instinct have been taught; Seek, then, thy nestling-place! “‘Spread out thy little hand; Thy mother’s bosom press, And thus return, in grateful guise, Her more sincere caress. “‘Go, darling infant, go; Thine hour has passed away; The jailer’s harsh, discordant voice Forbids thy longer stay. “‘God grant that we may meet In happier times than this, And with thine angel mother dear Enjoy domestic bliss. “‘But should the fearful clouds, Which Burmah’s sky o’erspread, Conduct the threatened vengeance down On thy poor father’s head— “‘Where couldst thou shelter find? Oh, whither wouldst thou stray? What hand would guide my darling’s steps Along their dangerous way? “‘There is a God on high, The glorious King of kings; ’Tis He to whom thy mother prays, Whose love she sits and sings. “‘That glorious God, so kind, Has sent His Son to save Our ruined race from sin and death, And raise them from the grave. “‘And to that gracious God My darling I commend; Be Thou the helpless orphan’s stay, Her Father and her Friend.