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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=575616" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Captive Child</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">September 8: 1650</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Child in girlhood's early grace,<br>Pale white rose of royal race,<br>Flower of France, and England's flower,<br>What dost here at twilight hour<br>Captive bird in castle-hold,<br>Picture-fair and calm and cold,<br>Cold and still as marble stone<br>In gray Carisbrook alone?<br>--Fold thy limbs and take thy rest,<br>Nestling of the silent nest!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah fair girl! So still and meek,<br>One wan hand beneath her cheek,<br>One on the holy texts that tell<br>Of God's love ineffable;--<br>Last dear gift her father gave<br>When, before to-morrow's grave,<br>By no unmanly grief unmann'd,<br>To his little orphan band<br>In that stress of anguish sore<br>He bade farewell evermore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Doom'd, unhappy King! Had he<br>Known the pangs in store for thee,<br>Known the coarse fanatic rage<br>That,--despite her flower-soft age,<br>Maidenhood's first blooming fair,--<br>Fever-struck in the imprison'd air<br>As rosebud on the dust-hill thrown<br>Cast a child to die alone,--<br>He had shed, with his last breath,<br>Bitterer tears than tears of death!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As in her infant hour she took<br>In her hand the pictured book<br>Where Christ beneath the scourger bow'd,<br>Crying 'O poor man!' aloud,<br>And in baby tender pain<br>Kiss'd the page, and kiss'd again,<br>While the happy father smiled<br>On his sweet warm-hearted child;<br>--So now to him, in Carisbrook lone,<br>All her tenderness has flown.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Oft with a child's faithful heart<br>She has seen him act his part;<br>Nothing in his life so well<br>Gracing him as when he fell;<br>Seen him greet his bitter doom<br>As the mercy-message Home;<br>Seen the scaffold and the shame,<br>The red shower that fell like flame;<br>Till the whole heart within her died,<br>Dying in fancy by his side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">--Statue-still and statue-fair<br>Now the low wind may lift her hair,<br>Motionless in lip and limb;<br>E'en the fearful mouse may skim<br>O'er the window-sill, nor stir<br>From the crumb at sight of her;<br>Through the lattice unheard float<br>Summer blackbird's evening note;--<br>E'en the sullen foe would bless<br>That pale utter gentleness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">--Eyes of heaven, that pass and peep,<br>Do not question, if she sleep!<br>She has no abiding here,<br>She is past the starry sphere;<br>Kneeling with the children sweet<br>At the palm-wreathed altar's feet;<br>--Innocents who died like thee,<br>Heaven-ward through man's cruelty,<br>To the love-smiles of their Lord<br>Borne through pain and fire and sword.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Francis+Turner+Palgrave">Francis Turner Palgrave</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=575616" data-title="The Captive Child de Francis Turner Palgrave" data-description="September 8: 1650

Child in girlhood's early grace,
Pale white rose of royal race,
Flower of France, and England's flower,
What dost here at twilight hour
Captive bird in castle-hold,
Picture-fair and calm and cold,
Cold and still as marble stone
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