Slowly up silent peaks, the white edge of the world, Trod four archangels, clear against the unheeding sky, Bearing, with quiet even steps, and great wings furled, A little dingy coffin; where a child must lie, It was so tiny. (Yet, you had fancied, God could never Have bidden a child turn from the spring and the sunlight, And shut him in that lonely shell, to drop for ever Into the emptiness and silence, into the night. . . .) They then from the sheer summit cast, and watched it fall, Through unknown glooms, that frail black coffin -- and therein God's little pitiful Body lying, worn and thin, And curled up like some crumpled, lonely flower-petal -- Till it was no more visible; then turned again With sorrowful quiet faces downward to the plain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THIRD BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 7. OF PLEASURE AND PAIN by THOMAS CAMPION THE AMERICAN FLAG by JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE THE CHARACTER OF HOLLAND by ANDREW MARVELL THE NIGHT COURT by RUTH COMFORT MITCHELL EPILOGUE TO THE SATIRES: DIALOGUE 1 by ALEXANDER POPE PSALM 1. BEATUS VIR, QUI NON by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE COMPLETE MISANTHROPIST by MORRIS GILBERT BISHOP |