Page:Enoch Arden, etc - Tennyson - 1864.djvu/138

 That was the first time, too, that ever I thought of death. There lay the sweet little body that never had drawn a breath. I had not wept, little Anne, not since I had been a wife; But I wept like a child that day, for the babe had fought for his life.

His dear little face was troubled, as if with anger or pain: I look'd at the still little body—his trouble had all been in vain. For Willy I cannot weep, I shall see him another morn: But I wept like a child for the child that was dead before he was born.