<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=359194" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Toys</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">My little Son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes <br>And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise, <br>Having my law the seventh time disobey'd, <br>I struck him, and dismiss'd <br>With hard words and unkiss'd,<br>—His Mother, who was patient, being dead. <br>Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep, <br>I visited his bed, <br>But found him slumbering deep, <br>With darken'd eyelids, and their lashes yet <br>From his late sobbing wet. <br>And I, with moan, <br>Kissing away his tears, left others of my own; <br>For, on a table drawn beside his head, <br>He had put, within his reach, <br>A box of counters and a red-vein'd stone, <br>A piece of glass abraded by the beach, <br>And six or seven shells, <br>A bottle with bluebells, <br>And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art, <br>To comfort his sad heart. <br>So when that night I pray'd <br>To God, I wept, and said: <br>Ah, when at last we lie with trancèd breath, <br>Not vexing Thee in death, <br>And Thou rememberest of what toys <br>We made our joys, <br>How weakly understood <br>Thy great commanded good, <br>Then, fatherly not less <br>Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay, <br>Thou'lt leave Thy wrath, and say, <br>'I will be sorry for their childishness.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Coventry+Patmore">Coventry Patmore</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=359194" data-title="The Toys de Coventry Patmore" data-description="My little Son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise, Having my law the seventh time disobey'd, I struck him, and dismiss'd With hard words and unkiss'd, —His Mother, who was patient, being dead. Then, f..."></div> </div> </div>

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