| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | X. The Pity of It
Casa Wappy | | By David Macbeth Moir (1798–1851) |
| | | AND hast thou sought thy heavenly home, | |
| Our fond, dear boy— | |
| The realms where sorrow dare not come, | |
| Where life is joy? | |
| Pure at thy death, as at thy birth, | 5 |
| Thy spirit caught no taint from earth, | |
| Even by its bliss we mete our dearth, | |
| Casa Wappy!… | |
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| Do what I may, go where I will, | |
| Thou meet’st my sight; | 10 |
| There dost thou glide before me still— | |
| A form of light! | |
| I feel thy breath upon my cheek, | |
| I see thee smile, I hear thee speak, | |
| Till oh! my heart is like to break, | 15 |
| Casa Wappy!… | |
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| We mourn for thee, when blind blank night | |
| The chamber fills; | |
| We pine for thee, when morn’s first light | |
| Reddens the hills; | 20 |
| The sun, the moon, the stars, the sea, | |
| All—to the wallflower and wild-pea— | |
| Are changed: we saw the world thro’ thee, | |
| Casa Wappy!… | | | | |
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