A Prophecy

O happy, happy, happy boy!
Let me tell you all your joy;
Let me whisper in your ear
All the secret of the seer.
Let me tell your fortune fair
To the wide and wandering air;
Let me share my rapture rare
With the social, songful air,—
With the gentle, genial air,
Kind to laughter and to prayer.

* * * * *

Whatsoe’er the world may say,
You shall have the right of way:
You shall laugh, and you shall play,
And, in merry roundelay,
Dance with jolly faun and fay;
You shall have the wealth of May
For your dowry every day.

* * * * *

Nature, from her frailest spar
To her oldest, utmost star,
All her miracles shall bring
For your blissful wondering;—
You shall be her priest and king.
Knowing what was never known,
Reaping what was never sown,
You shall feel the world your own,
On your universal throne.
And, in holy place apart,
(Blessed are the pure in heart!)
In a halo of delight,
Jubilant with glorious might,
You shall walk with God in white.

* * * * *

This is all was shown to me
Of the child’s futurity;
What the youth and man will be—
Sealed is in mystery.
Scarcely can his angel see,
Face to face with Deity,
Farther into certainty.
God exceed the prophecy!
God be better to the boy
Than the parent’s dream of joy.