This is what my dear sweet Isaac is to me

SONNET

TO

MY BELOVED DAUGHTER.

by Mary Darby Robinson

WHEN FATE in ruthless rage assail'd my breast,
  And Heaven relentless seal'd the harsh decree;
HOPE, placid soother of the mind distress'd;
  To calm my rending sorrows–gave me THEE.
In all the charms of innocence array'd,
  'Tis thine to sprinkle patience on my woes;
  As from thy voice celestial comfort flows,
Glancing bright lustre o'er each dreary shade.
Still may thy growing REASON's light divine,
  Illume with joy my melancholy bow'rs;
Still may the beams of sacred VIRTUE shine,
  To deck thy spring of youth with thornless flow'rs;
So shall their splendid attributes combine,
  To shed soft sunshine on MY WINTRY HOURS.