Behold the child, by Nature's kindly law pleased with a rattle, tickled with a straw.
Is it, in heav'n, a crime to love too well?
Love finds an altar for forbidden fires.
Our business in the field of fight, Is not to question, but to prove our might.
Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
The world forgetting, by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind! Each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd