 | The poetical writings of the late Willis Gaylord Clark |  |
131
DEATH OF THE FIRST-BORN.
“Ah! weladay! most angelike of face,
A childe, young in his pure innocence,
Tender of limbes, God wote full guiltilesse,
The goodly faire that lieth here speechelesse.
A mouth he has, but wordis hath he none;
Can not complain, alas! for none outrage,
Ne grutcheth not, but lies here all alone,
Still as a lambe, most meke of his visage:
What heart of steele could do to him damage,
Or suffer him die, beholding the manere,
And look benign of his twin eyen clere?”
Lydgate.
A childe, young in his pure innocence,
Tender of limbes, God wote full guiltilesse,
The goodly faire that lieth here speechelesse.
A mouth he has, but wordis hath he none;
Can not complain, alas! for none outrage,
Ne grutcheth not, but lies here all alone,
Still as a lambe, most meke of his visage:
What heart of steele could do to him damage,
Or suffer him die, beholding the manere,
And look benign of his twin eyen clere?”
Lydgate.
Young mother, he is gone!
His dimpled cheek no more will touch thy breast;
No more the music tone
Float from his lips, to thine all fondly pressed;
His smile and happy laugh are lost to thee:
Earth must his mother and his pillow be.
His dimpled cheek no more will touch thy breast;
No more the music tone
Float from his lips, to thine all fondly pressed;
His smile and happy laugh are lost to thee:
Earth must his mother and his pillow be.
His was the morning hour,
And he had passed in beauty from the day,
A bud, not yet a flower,
Torn, in its sweetness, from the parent spray;
The death-wind swept him to his soft repose.
As frost, in spring-time blights the early rose.
And he had passed in beauty from the day,
A bud, not yet a flower,
Torn, in its sweetness, from the parent spray;
The death-wind swept him to his soft repose.
As frost, in spring-time blights the early rose.
Never on earth again
Will his rich accents charm thy listening ear,
Like some Æolian strain,
Breathing at eventide serene and clear;
His voice is choked in dust, and on his eyes
The unbroken seal of peace and silence lies.
Will his rich accents charm thy listening ear,
Like some Æolian strain,
Breathing at eventide serene and clear;
132
The unbroken seal of peace and silence lies.
And from thy yearning heart,
Whose inmost core was warm with love for him,
A gladness must depart,
And those kind eyes with many tears be dim;
While lonely memories, an unceasing train,
Will turn the raptures of the past to pain.
Whose inmost core was warm with love for him,
A gladness must depart,
And those kind eyes with many tears be dim;
While lonely memories, an unceasing train,
Will turn the raptures of the past to pain.
Yet, mourner, while the day
Rolls like the darkness of a funeral by,
And hope forbids one ray
To stream athwart the grief-discolored sky;
There breaks upon thy sorrow's evening gloom
A trembling lustre from beyond the tomb.
Rolls like the darkness of a funeral by,
And hope forbids one ray
To stream athwart the grief-discolored sky;
There breaks upon thy sorrow's evening gloom
A trembling lustre from beyond the tomb.
'T is from the better land;
There, bathed in radiance that around them springs,
Thy loved one's wings expand;
As with the choiring cherubim he sings,
And all the glory of that God can see,
Who said, on earth, to children, “Come to me.”
There, bathed in radiance that around them springs,
Thy loved one's wings expand;
As with the choiring cherubim he sings,
And all the glory of that God can see,
Who said, on earth, to children, “Come to me.”
Mother, thy child is blessed:
And though his presence may be lost to thee,
And vacant leave thy breast,
And missed, a sweet load from thy parent knee:
Though tones familiar from thine ear have passed,
Thou'lt meet thy first-born with his Lord at last.
And though his presence may be lost to thee,
And vacant leave thy breast,
And missed, a sweet load from thy parent knee:
Though tones familiar from thine ear have passed,
Thou'lt meet thy first-born with his Lord at last.
| The poetical writings of the late Willis Gaylord Clark | |