Truly 'tis a pleasant picture —
   (Oh, that we should e'er grow old!)
Lilly with her brave companion,
   Hector, beautiful and bold;
Lilly, graceful in her girlhood,
   Hector, generous in his pride,
Sporting cheerfully together,
   Friends whom nothing can divide.

Painter, take thy cunning pencil,
   Dip it in the brightest hues,
And portray these playful creatures,
   Worthy of the poet's muse;
Then the father's heart with gladness,
   And the mother's eyes with tears,
Will confess that thou hast left them
   Pleasure for their after years.

Death, inevitable spoiler,
   Sharp and sudden, stern and slow,
All too soon may snatch their treasure,
   And o'erwhelm their souls with woe.

Then the dear and mute resemblance
   Oft will draw their earnest gaze,
And with silent power remind them
   Of the joys of former days.

Better far such simple pictures,
   Then the glare of warlike things,
Than the deeds of tragic story,
   Than the gorgeous pomp of kings:
For they keep the home affections
   Ever fresh with life and bloom;
Soothe the heart in its bereavement, —
   Mitigate the spirit's gloom.

Lilly, first-born of thy mother,
   'Neath whose eye thy beauty grew,
Earliest offspring of thy father,
   Chiefest darling of the two; —
Now thy nature is unsullied,
   Free from shadow, free from care,
May no unexpected sorrow
   Come upon thee unaware!

May thy mind, which is but dawning
   With a rich and rosy ray,
Quicken gently, softly open,
   Into clear and ample day;
May thy heart receive all goodness,
   With its passions at command,
Till thy loving parents see thee
"Perfect woman, nobly planned."

Changeful time, perchance, may bring thee
   Sterner duties to fulfil;
May'st thou meet them, and perform them,
   With calm spirit and goodwill.
Whosoever wins and claims thee
   For his hearthstone and his heart,
May he cherish thee, and keep thee
   From all evil things apart.

And should children come around thee,
   Cheering home with gladsome din,
May they long remain beside thee,
   Free from sorrow — safe from sin.
But through all life's chances, changes,
   Keep thy feelings undefiled;
Loving still thy father, mother,
   Even as a little child.

Whatsoever may betide thee,
   Good or evil, foul or fair,
Strive to keep thy soul exalted
   'Bove the clouds of common care;
Thank thy God for smallest blessing,
   Meet His stroke with soul resigned, —
Still believing that all darkness
   Has some mercy-light behind.

As for Hector, he will never
   Waver in his love for thee;
But, perhaps, hereafter gambol
   With the children round thy knee.
Cherish, then, thy true companion,
   With his fond, sagacious ways;
While he lives he will remind thee
   Of thy happy early days.