| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | X. The Pity of It
Graves of Infants | | By John Clare (1793–1864) |
| | | INFANTS’ gravemounds are steps of angels, where | |
| Earth’s brightest gems of innocence repose. | |
| God is their parent, so they need no tear; | |
| He takes them to his bosom from earth’s woes, | |
| A bud their lifetime and a flower their close. | 5 |
| Their spirits are the Iris of the skies, | |
| Needing no prayers; a sunset’s happy close. | |
| Gone are the bright rays of their soft blue eyes; | |
| Flowers weep in dew-drops o’er them, and the gale gently sighs. | |
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| Their lives were nothing but a sunny shower, | 10 |
| Melting on flowers as tears melt from the eye. | |
| Each death … | |
| Was tolled on flowers as Summer gales went by. | |
| They bowed and trembled, yet they heaved no sigh, | |
| And the sun smiled to show the end was well. | 15 |
| Infants have nought to weep for ere they die; | |
| All prayers are needless, beads they need not tell, | |
| White flowers their mourners are, Nature their passing bell. | | | | |
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