DOMESTIC SCENES

II

Look not upon me with such eyes, my son;
I would not have thee read my secret clear,
Nor would I so deceive my little one
That poison through thy fragile veins should sear.

Never, O never, may thy father's gloom
Obstruct thee from the joy and glow of day—
To speak of joy does voice presume?—
I do not wish thee joy,
For on this earth
To live in mirth
One must be saint or fool;—
And fool, — God save thee, boy!—
And saint — I know not of the school.