The world is with me, and its many cares, 
Its woes--its wants--the anxious hopes and fears 
That wait on all terrestrial affairs-- 
The shades of former and of future years-- 
Forboding fancies and prophetic tears, 
Quelling a spirit that was once elate. 
Heavens! what a wilderness the world appears, 
Where youth, and mirth, and health are out of date; 
But no--a laugh of innocence and joy 
Resounds, like music of the fairy race, 
And, gladly turning from the world's annoy, 
I gaze upon a little radiant face, 
And bless, internally, the merry boy 
Who "makes a son-shine in a shady place."