LIKE A CHILD.
107
So busy that when Death comes he pleads for a little delay,
If not to finish his work, at the least a word to say,—
A word to wife and child, a sentence to tell the truth,
That he loves them now, at the last, with the passionate heart of youth.
If not to finish his work, at the least a word to say,—
A word to wife and child, a sentence to tell the truth,
That he loves them now, at the last, with the passionate heart of youth.
The kisses of Death are cold, and they turn his lips to stone:
Out of the warm, bright world the man goes all alone.
Do Angels wait for him there, over the soundless sea?
He goes, as he came, all helpless, to a new world's mystery
Like a child.
Out of the warm, bright world the man goes all alone.
Do Angels wait for him there, over the soundless sea?
He goes, as he came, all helpless, to a new world's mystery
Like a child.
