| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
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| Robert Bridges. b. 1844 |
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| 837. On a Dead Child |
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| PERFECT little body, without fault or stain on thee, | |
| With promise of strength and manhood full and fair! | |
| Though cold and stark and bare, | |
| The bloom and the charm of life doth awhile remain on thee. | |
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| Thy mother's treasure wert thou;—alas! no longer | 5 |
| To visit her heart with wondrous joy; to be | |
| Thy father's pride:—ah, he | |
| Must gather his faith together, and his strength make stronger. | |
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| To me, as I move thee now in the last duty, | |
| Dost thou with a turn or gesture anon respond; | 10 |
| Startling my fancy fond | |
| With a chance attitude of the head, a freak of beauty. | |
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| Thy hand clasps, as 'twas wont, my finger, and holds it: | |
| But the grasp is the clasp of Death, heartbreaking and stiff; | |
| Yet feels to my hand as if | 15 |
| 'Twas still thy will, thy pleasure and trust that enfolds it. | |
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| So I lay thee there, thy sunken eyelids closing,— | |
| Go lie thou there in thy coffin, thy last little bed!— | |
| Propping thy wise, sad head, | |
| Thy firm, pale hands across thy chest disposing. | 20 |
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| So quiet! doth the change content thee?—Death, whither hath he taken thee? | |
| To a world, do I think, that rights the disaster of this? | |
| The vision of which I miss, | |
| Who weep for the body, and wish but to warm thee and awaken thee? | |
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| Ah! little at best can all our hopes avail us | 25 |
| To lift this sorrow, or cheer us, when in the dark, | |
| Unwilling, alone we embark, | |
| And the things we have seen and have known and have heard of, fail us. | |
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