Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/156



desert way is dreary, All empty is the wild, My feet are very weary, I cannot find my child. The infinite blank spaces Are weighing on my soul, Gloom reigns in their dumb faces, And there is no goal! My hand is on the hollow, Where I dreamed a heart; The world is dead; I follow, Darling, where thou art! But while my Hope was swooning, And Earth and Heaven reeled, I heard an infant moaning, Who to my love appealed: So then I prayed for power, And laid him on my breast; The little human flower