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Four years after Sally's death, Henry was finally recovering. 1787 saw a large number of his poems. One was a poem for Rev. Timothy Dwight's son Timmy. It's a sparkling piece that is extremely unusual for a birthday poem because it offers wishes a child would want, rather than those that an adult would usually wish for a child. Never may thy cricket ball, In a well or puddle fall. Thirty-nine years before the publication of "An Account of a Visit From St. Nicholas", twenty-eight years before the birth of Clement Clarke Moore's first child,         Henry was already rhyming jelly with belly! The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face, and a little round belly That shook when he laugh'd, like a bowl full of jelly