Poems By Richard Chenevix Trench: New ed |
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TO --- |
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228
TO ---
Child of my spiritual love !—others I claim,
Nor are they not unto my spirit near,
While they, too, bear for me this holy name,
And by its right are dear:
And yet they do not stir for me, as thou
Stirrest the fountains of my bosom now.
Nor are they not unto my spirit near,
While they, too, bear for me this holy name,
And by its right are dear:
And yet they do not stir for me, as thou
Stirrest the fountains of my bosom now.
For memory guardeth yet,
And will in holiest places guard the hour,
When first beside that hallowed font we met,
And on thy brow the sacred seal was set,
And given the robe of power.
And will in holiest places guard the hour,
When first beside that hallowed font we met,
And on thy brow the sacred seal was set,
And given the robe of power.
Beneath my feet he lay,—
His little mouldering clay,
So lately to the heartless earth consigned,
Even his, for ever dear, the first who came
To bid me know what meant a father's name,
With a child's love about my heart to wind.
His little mouldering clay,
So lately to the heartless earth consigned,
Even his, for ever dear, the first who came
To bid me know what meant a father's name,
With a child's love about my heart to wind.
And all around me did a frequent band
Of newer mourners stand:
For thou, unconscious child, hast yet to learn
That it was at thy birth
As if a star had quitted earth,
Thee clothing in its radiance mild,
And in a splendour undefiled,
But never more in our dim air to burn.
Of newer mourners stand:
For thou, unconscious child, hast yet to learn
That it was at thy birth
As if a star had quitted earth,
Thee clothing in its radiance mild,
And in a splendour undefiled,
But never more in our dim air to burn.
229
Oh then, dear child, be thou for ever strong,
As one who for these costliest issues came
Into this world, as one to whom belong
The glory and the burden of a name,
Thy sire's and grandsire's;—ample be thy dower!
And all thy life the unfolding, hour by hour,
Of what was at that font made thine of grace and power.
As one who for these costliest issues came
Into this world, as one to whom belong
The glory and the burden of a name,
Thy sire's and grandsire's;—ample be thy dower!
And all thy life the unfolding, hour by hour,
Of what was at that font made thine of grace and power.
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