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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=533771" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Dead Child</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">ALL silent is the room,<br> There is no stir of breath,<br>Save mine, as in the gloom<br> I sit alone with Death. <br>Short life it had, the sweet,<br> Small babe here lying dead,<br>With tapers at its feet<br> And tapers at its head. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dear little hands, too frail<br> Their grasp on life to hold;<br>Dear little mouth so pale,<br> So solemn, and so cold; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Small feet that nevermore<br> About the house shall run;<br>Thy little life is o’er!<br> Thy little journey done! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sweet infant, dead too soon,<br> Thou shalt no more behold<br>The face of sun or moon,<br> Or starlight clear and cold; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor know, where thou art gone,<br> The mournfulness and mirth<br>We know who dwell upon<br> This sad, glad, mad, old earth. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The foolish hopes and fond<br> That cheat us to the last<br>Thou shalt not feel; beyond<br> All these things thou hast passed. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The struggles that upraise<br> The soul by slow degrees<br>To God, through weary days—<br> Thou hast no part in these. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And at thy childish play<br> Shall we, O little one,<br>No more behold thee? Nay,<br> No more beneath the sun. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Death’s sword may well be bared<br> ’Gainst those grown old in strife,<br>But, ah! it might have spared<br> Thy little unlived life. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why talk as in despair?<br> Just God, whose rod I kiss,<br>Did not make thee so fair<br> To end thy life at this. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There is some pleasant shore—<br> Far from His Heaven of Pride,<br>Where those strong souls who bore<br> His Cross in bliss abide— </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some place where feeble things,<br> For Life’s long war too weak,<br>Young birds with unfledged wings,<br> Buds nipped by storm-winds bleak, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Young lambs left all forlorn<br> Beneath a bitter sky,<br>Meek souls to sorrow born,<br> Find refuge when they die. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There day is one long dawn,<br> And from the cups of flowers<br>Light dew-filled clouds updrawn<br> Rain soft and perfumed showers. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Child Jesus walketh there<br> Amidst child-angel bands,<br>With smiling lips, and fair<br> White roses in His hands. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I kiss thee on the brow,<br> I kiss thee on the eyes—<br>Farewell! Thy home is now<br> The Children’s Paradise.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Victor+James+Daley">Victor James Daley</a><div class=q>
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<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=533771" data-title="The Dead Child de Victor James Daley" data-description="ALL silent is the room,
 There is no stir of breath,
Save mine, as in the gloom
 I sit alone with Death. 
Short life it had, the sweet,
 Small babe here lying dead,
With tapers at its feet
 And tapers at its head. 

Dear little hands, too frail
 T..."></div>
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