LINES TO TWO FRIENDS,
WITH ONE OF GENERAL WASHINGTON'S HAIRS.
If you would like a reverie.
Listen awhile, dear friends, to me;
And let a frail and slender hair
To times long passed, your fancy bear:
Where, seated on his mother's knee,
The infant Washington you see.
There, twined around her finger white,
In a soft ringlet, golden bright,
This very hair shall meet your sight.
Who could, in that round baby face,
The hero of his country trace?
To auburn hue it darkens now,
Curling around the youthful brow
That shades his beaming, kindling eye,
Prophetic of futurity.
Now glory fills his manly breast,
And by his helmet it is prest;
His country's weal his bosom warms,
And victory crowns the hero's arms.
Mayhap, on some successful day,
Resting from the battle fray,
From his forehead, pained with care,
His honored hand has stroked this hair:
Listen awhile, dear friends, to me;
And let a frail and slender hair
To times long passed, your fancy bear:
Where, seated on his mother's knee,
The infant Washington you see.
There, twined around her finger white,
In a soft ringlet, golden bright,
This very hair shall meet your sight.
Who could, in that round baby face,
The hero of his country trace?
To auburn hue it darkens now,
Curling around the youthful brow
That shades his beaming, kindling eye,
Prophetic of futurity.
Now glory fills his manly breast,
And by his helmet it is prest;
His country's weal his bosom warms,
And victory crowns the hero's arms.
Mayhap, on some successful day,
Resting from the battle fray,
From his forehead, pained with care,
His honored hand has stroked this hair:
