To the Daughter of a Friend

I pray thee, by thy mother's face,
And by her look, and by her eye,
By every decent matron grace
That hover'd round the resting-place
Where thy young head did lie;
And by the voice that soothed thine ear,
The hymn, the smile, the sigh, the tear,
That match'd thy changeful mood;
By every prayer thy mother taught,
By every blessing that she sought,
I pray thee to be good.
Is not the nestling, when it wakes,
Its eye upon the wood around,
And on its new-fledged pinions takes
lb? taste of leaves, and boughs, and brakes —
Of motion, sight, and sound, —
Is it not like the parent? Then
Be like thy mother, child, and when
Thy wing is bold and strong, —
As pure and steady be thy light,
As high and heavenly be thy flight,
As holy be thy song.