Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MIMMA BELLA; IN MEMORY OF A LITTLE LIFE: 5, by EUGENE JACOB LEE-HAMILTON



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MIMMA BELLA; IN MEMORY OF A LITTLE LIFE: 5, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: What wast thou, little baby, that art dead
Last Line: Enough for us, thou wast thy baby self.
Subject(s): Death - Children; Death - Babies


What wast thou, little baby, that art dead --
A one day's blossom that the hoar-frost nips?
A bee that's crushed, the first bright day it sips?
A small dropped gem that in the earth we tread?

Or cherub's smiling gold-encircled head,
That Death from out Life's painted missal rips?
Or murmured prayer that barely reached the lips?
Or sonnet's fair first line -- the rest unsaid?

Oh, 'tis not hard to find what thou wast like;
The world is full of fair unfinished things
That vanish like a dawn-admonished elf.

Life teems with opening forms for Death to strike;
The woods are full of unfledged broken wings;
Enough for us, thou wast thy baby self.





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