Poems (Van Rensselaer)/At a Child's Grave
AT A CHILD'S GRAVE
Early the dying, ay,But flawless the life thereby.And who would a pearl exchange,Perfect, for one of a strangeDistorted shape, and a hueLess white than innocence, thoughIt had grown to a larger size?Only the blind can prizeA pearl for its weight always,A life for its length of days.
Lie down in thy little grave.Still shall thy mother haveA jewel of joy to keepOn her heart, awake, asleep,While another mother mayCover her head by day,And mourn at night on her bedThe lost who are not the dead.