Poem by Christian Milne

Address to a New Weaned Child

WELL may you droop your pretty head,
You'll press the teat no more,
Your halcyon days of unmix'd bliss,
Poor little babe, are o'er.
Your days have hitherto been sweet,
Hugg'd, dandled, and caress'd;
But, as your limbs, and passions grow,
Your cares will be increas'd.
A twelvemonth hence, your little faults
Will meet the training rod;
For tatter'd doll, or broken toy,
You'll pour a briny flood.
In grief, in joy, in pain, in health,
Alternate will be past
Your future yours, and none be crown'd
With pleasures like the last!

1. Song 7 (Cool evening invites--let us stray)
2. Written on the Morning of the Communion Sabbath
3. When in Dread of My Husband’s Safety at Sea
4. Written in Early Spring, 1795
5. Song 1 (Now Winter is o'er, and sweet Spring is returning)

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