Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/86

Slow-pacing in his wonted haunt,
On whose tall, broad, howdah'd back
The child and I along the track
Three years ago swung, full of glee—
Now the child is not with me!

When our wild praying seemed to stir
God's awful executioner,
Whose blank, set countenance faint quavered,
Whose dull resolve a moment wavered,
And when sweet life seemed to repel
Death's white horror, it befell
That when he would descend the stair,
Patient he paused for one to bear
Him feeble, and I filled the want;
So he named me his elephant.

Passing through the gay arcade,
Where toys for children are displayed,
Anon I pause before a toy,
Dreaming how a little boy
Will lighten mirth from his dear face
If I buy it—for a space
Unremembering my home
Without him is but blind and dumb!
His sacred toys lie idle now:
O'er them the pale anguished brow