Sonnets LXXXVI: January 19, 1839

My fairy girl, amidst her mirthful play,
Suddenly kneeling, clasps her hands in one,
And prays the words she has been taught to pray
Morning and evening; when her prayer is done,
In calm, as though some Mighty One was near,
Who soothed her, but not awed, away she springs,
And runs to me with laughter silver-clear,
Till all our home with her full joyance rings.
Nor am I one who, with displeasure cold,
Such sport would chide; our heavenly Father's face
Each night and day her angel doth behold:
Her soul is filled with his baptismal grace;
Happy, if through her years and cares untold,
Such pure communion could her spirit hold.