Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/102



their angels Ever behold the face Of our Eternal Father, Sunned in His full grace. Yet in the stormless sunshine They do not love to dwell; There is no place in heaven They love half so well As the lowly chamber Of a little child; Dearer to them the breathing Of his bosom mild Than are all the pæans Round about the throne, Scorning the cold splendour Of an idle crown. Love rears her radiant palace In our shadow-world of fears, She mourns by our dark ocean Of tempestuous tears!