VAINLY, vainly, memory seeks Round our father's knee, Laughing eyes and rosy cheeks, Where they used to be: Of the circle once so wide, Three are wanderers, three have died Golden-hair'd and dewy-eyed, Prattling all the day, Was the baby, first that died; O, 'twas hard to lay Dimpled hand and cheek of snow, In the grave so dark and low! Smiling back on all who smiled, Ne'er by sorrow thrall'd, Half a woman, half a child, Was the next God call'd; Then a grave more deep and wide Made they by the baby's side. When or where the other died Only heaven can tell; Treading manhood's path of pride, Was he when he fell; Haply thistles, blue and red, Bloom about his lonesome bed. I am for the living three Only left to pray; Two are on the stormy sea -- Farther still than they, Wanders one his young heart dim, Oftenest -- most -- I pray for him. Whatsoe'er they do or dare, Wheresoe'er they roam, Have them, Father, in thy care, Guide them safely home; Home, O Father, in the sky, Where none wander and none die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DIORAMA PAINTER AT THE MUSEUM OF NATURAL HISTORY by KAREN SWENSON A WOMAN'S LOVE by JOHN MILTON HAY TIMES GO BY TURNS by ROBERT SOUTHWELL THE EUMENIDES: THE FURIES' PRAYER by AESCHYLUS TO A CHILD by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) MAXIMS FOR THE OLD HOUSE: THE EAVES by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 33 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |