Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/125

Cold horror held me as he lay;
… I thought I heard him called away!
Once, when I brought him forth for air,
I set him ailing on the stile,
Till I should fetch from over there
His pet toy creature; with a smile,
He prayed that I would go; "for he
Wants the air like you and me!"

Ah, child! to think that I was here
Or ever thou, love, did appear
On our earth-sphere!
How I wonder from what regions,
From what shadowy love-legions,
Thou camest here!
I thank thee, Heaven, that I quaffed
Such a deep delicious draught
From his clear life! None came to waft
Warnings of woe about the boy;
How brief the tenure of our joy;
We never, never dreamed of this,
Lingering in vistas of immortal bliss!
Ah! scornful irony of lordly Fate,
Dallying with mortals in their mean estate!

Nay, surely he hath grown my guide,
Who lately faltered by my side.
He is my saint now! his clear eyes