Sonnet to a Little Girl

Communicated by Miss Beslee

Sweet rose bud! promise of the fairest flower
May no rude Storm thy calm retreat invade
No ruthless foes thy growing charms devour
Or secret canker cause thy bloom to fade.
May no rough hand untimely, rudely tear
Thy tender blossom from its parent stem
May none regardless of a flower so fair
To cold neglect thy drooping sweets condemn.
But when at length thine op’ning charms expand
Matured by summer suns and genial skies
May’st thou be gather’d by his gentle hand
Who owns those charms, and knows thy worth to prize,
Fond may he place thee to his heaving breast
Sweet rose bud! proud to hail so fair a guest.