Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A LITTLE CHILD, by THOMAS MILLER (1831-)


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A LITTLE CHILD, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: A fairy child! With eyes of lustrous blue
Last Line: And angels waft thee to the world unseen!
Subject(s): Babies; Children; Infants; Childhood


A FAIRY child! with eyes of lustrous blue,
Soft in their glances, yet so deep and thrilling,
His very soul seem'd rising into view;
And while you gazed, you felt its power instilling
Soft, soothing influence in your own like dew,
And with the gentleness of Heaven filling
Your weary spirit with that peaceful rest
Which loves to linger in sweet childhood's breast.

Oh! blessed childhood! what a wondrous power
Thy very helplessness of being wields,
E'en giant strength will at thy cradle cower;
And wisdom wonder at the love it yields!
Weak as thou art, and tender as a flower,
Thy very tenderness thy young life shields.
Sweet child, thou art a very Heaven to me,
For Heaven we know is made of such as thee.

And what a mystery is a little child!
What powers, and possibilities, and parts
May all be slumbering 'neath these glances mild,
Which yet may waken to enrich the arts;
And through thy ken may yet be reconciled
Some cruel doubts, whose present influence thwarts
Our spirit's peace, and makes us sometimes own
We're steering blindly o'er a sea unknown.

Rich are the realms that all around thee lie
When once thy mind their mysteries can explore,
Rare are the treasures that will charm thine eye,
And lead thee spellbound to their wondrous store.
Grand are the thoughts that reach the deep and high,
Spreading for thee their intellectual lore --
Empires of wealth, by Heavenly power design'd,
To meet the longings of the lofty mind.

We are, at best, but children all through life,
For ever learning to be truly wise --
How weak at times 'gainst passion's deadly strife!
How trifles fret us, and how sins surprise!
How hard the struggle when the powers are rife!
What subtle discord 'neath the surface lies!
Wayward our will, and helpless in life's gale,
When clouds o'erwhelm, and doubts and storms assail.

Perchance thy spirit may be strong and wild --
Restless and weary on life's dusty road;
Sick of the empty joys that once beguiled,
And seem'd to ease the poor heart's weary load.
May all the tenderness that graced the child
Return, and charm thee to the loved abode --
The dear old place -- thy childhood's peaceful home,
Where blessings wait thee 'neath its hallow'd dome.

Wean'd from the world and all its passing show,
Filled with the tender joy that thrills the breast,
When the chafed spirit, purged and bending low,
Woos back the peace that conquers all unrest --
That gracious love that makes the heart o'erflow,
And soothes the sorrows of the worst and best!
Oh! blessed influence, gentle and benign,
May all its wealth of healing power be thine!

And, when the shadows of Life's evening fall,
And gathering mists frail Nature's powers obscure,
May Hope's bright star illume the dreary pall,
And Faith stand firmer on its rock secure.
And when the signal's given to recall
The spirit home to Him who washed it pure,
May life's last sigh be peaceful and serene,
And angels waft thee to the world unseen!





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