To a Posthumous Infant

Child of woman, and of Heaven,
Ere thy birth, of sire bereaven.
Offspring of a widow'd dove,
Of half thy heritage of love
Defeated, ere thy little breath
Was drawn from atmosphere of death-
Smiler, that shalt ne'er beguile
Father's tear with baby smile,
Never laugh on father's knee,
Knows thy father aught of thee ?

May the spirit of the Blest
Look upon its earthly nest ?
Breathe upon thine infant slumbers
The music of angelic numbers,
Glide into the growing soul,
To form, " to kindle, or controul ? "
May the sainted parent bless
His own, the new-born fatherless ?