Can I, who have for others oft compiled The songs of Death, forget my sweetest child, Which, like a flower crushed, with a blast is dead, And ere full time hangs down his smiling head, Expecting with clear hope to live anew Among the angels, fed with heavenly dew? We have this sign of joy, that many days While on the earth his struggling spirit stays, The name of Jesus in his mouth contains His only food, his sleep, his ease from pains . . . . DEAR Lord, receive my son, whose winning love To me was like a friendship, far above The course of nature or his tender age; Whose looks could all my bitter griefs assuage: Let his pure soul, ordain'd seven years to be In that frail body which was part of me, Remain my pledge in Heaven, as sent to show How to this port at every step I go. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...OCTAVES: 15 by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON MIDSUMMER FROST (2) by ISAAC ROSENBERG MERLIN'S PROPHESY by WILLIAM BLAKE THE BLISSFUL DAY by ROBERT BURNS THE ROSE AND THORN by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE ROUGE BOUQUET [MARCH 7, 1918] by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER |