12
A LITTLE CHILD'S MONUMENT.
III.
Weary Night went weeping,
Moaning long and low,
Till dim Dawn, awaking,
Found them so—
The heart that bled,
And his dim dead.
IV.
"Measure him for his coffin,"
He heard a stranger say;
And then he broke to laughing,
"God! measure my poor clay,
And shut me in my coffin,
A soul gone grey!
For hope lies dead,
Life is fled."
