Poor little lad! No roof to shelter him, No voice to welcome him, No arms to mother him, None to be kind; Unwanted boy! One came to mourn him Falsely for gain! Cruel was the world to him In life and in death; Wronged little lad! All that is passed now— Here he lies sleeping, Warm is the sun That shines on his head, Bright are the flowers That cover his bed. Sweet be thy sleep, Dear little boy! And Thou God Who dwellest In Mansions above, Give him on waking A Mother's true love. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CENTER OF GRAVITY by DAVID IGNATOW THE LAMP OF LIFE by AMY LOWELL HOLES BORED IN A WORKBAG BY THE SCISSORS by MARIANNE MOORE LANCELOT by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON HARRISON STREET COURT by CARL SANDBURG |