Days and Hours :: :: University of Virginia Library

God said, ‘Bring little children unto me;’
And Man is likest God, when from his heart
Truth flows in its divine simplicity,
And love dwells in him working without art:
Children are Earth's fair flowers—the Crown of Life
A noble Woman—and he is refill'd
With hope who turns with love unto his Wife,
With love who turns with hope unto his Child.

II

Oh! if no faces were beheld on earth,
But toiling Manhood, and repining Age,
No welcome eyes of Innocence and Mirth
To look upon us kindly, who would wage
The gloomy battle for himself alone?
Or thro' the dark of the o'erhanging cloud
Look wistfully for light? who would not groan
Beneath his daily task, and weep aloud?

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III

But little children take us by the hand,
And gaze with trustful cheer into our eyes;
Patience and Fortitude beside us stand
In Woman's shape, and waft to Heav'n our sighs;
The guiltless child holds back the arm of Guilt
Upraised to strike, and woman may atone
With sinless tears for sins of man, and melt
The damning seal when evil deeds are done.

IV

When thirsty Suffering hath drunk up our tears,
And left the heart sere as an Autumn leaf,
From her fond eyes they fall for us; she cheers
With songs, and lights with hope the cloud of Grief;
When our sweet Youth for ever buried lies,
And we well nigh forget the thing we were,
Once more we meet him in the young blue eyes,
And laugh to see his resurrection there.

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V

When to the car of Vengeance and of Hate
We yoke ill thoughts, and memories hot from Hell,
'Tis She that stays us, like relenting Fate,
'Tis her weak arm that locks the crazing wheel;
Above the dust of conflict, and the jar,
She lifts a little child; her voice is heard
Piercing above the thunder of the War,
‘Spare thou, that thine hereafter may be spared!’

VI

And should they go before us on that way
That all must tread, and leave us faint with sorrow;
Should the great light of Love forsake our day,
Memory's bright moon bespeaks a sun-bright morrow;
Behold, the skies unfold! broad beams descend;
Beneath the Gods upon the golden stair,
Amid the upward glories without end,
At Heavengate they stand, and bid us there.