The Poetical Works of Ernest Christopher Dowson Edited, with an introduction, by Desmond Flower |
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THE DEAD CHILD |
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 | The Poetical Works of Ernest Christopher Dowson |  |
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THE DEAD CHILD
Sleep on, dear, now
The last sleep and the best,
And on thy brow,
And on thy quiet breast,
Violets I throw.
The last sleep and the best,
And on thy brow,
And on thy quiet breast,
Violets I throw.
Thy scanty years
Were mine a little while;
Life had no fears
To trouble thy brief smile
With toil or tears.
Were mine a little while;
Life had no fears
To trouble thy brief smile
With toil or tears.
Lie still, and be
For evermore a child!
Not grudgingly,
Whom life has not defiled,
I render thee.
For evermore a child!
Not grudgingly,
Whom life has not defiled,
I render thee.
Slumber so deep,
No man would rashly wake;
I hardly weep,
Fain only, for thy sake,
To share thy sleep.
No man would rashly wake;
I hardly weep,
Fain only, for thy sake,
To share thy sleep.
70
Yes, to be dead,
Dead, here with thee to-day,—
When all is said
'Twere good by thee to lay
My weary head.
Dead, here with thee to-day,—
When all is said
'Twere good by thee to lay
My weary head.
The very best!
Ah, child so tired of play,
I stand confessed:
I want to come thy way,
And share thy rest.
Ah, child so tired of play,
I stand confessed:
I want to come thy way,
And share thy rest.
| The Poetical Works of Ernest Christopher Dowson | |