Affectionately inscribed to my nephew, S. A.

Here is my hand, young kinsman,
Proffered with right good will;
And this my wish,—that coming years
Fall round thee cloudless, still.

'Tis something to enroll the Past,
On Memory's golden chart,
In characters whose hallowed light
Will cheer the aged heart.

'Tis this ennobles Manhood,—
To give the moments back
As bright and fair as when they dawn
On Youth's bewildering track;

To let each passing record show
A purpose strong and true,
A soul above temptation's snares,
A tender heart and true.

I may not read thy future;
And yet the siren Hope
Spreads out before my longing gaze
A pleasing horoscope.

No shadow falls across thy path,
E'en to life's setting sun,
But every promise seems fulfilled
Thou gav'st at twenty-one.