human
While thou art mine, my little Love, 85 This cannot be a sorrowful grove; Contentment, hope, and mother's glee, [13] I seem to find them all in thee: [14] Here's grass to play with, here are flowers; I'll call thee by my darling's name; 90 Thou hast, I think, a look of ours, Thy features seem to me the same; His little sister thou shalt be; And, when once more my home I see, I'll tell him many tales of Thee.