Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/50



A Voice. a little child! Stone cold upon a bed! Is it for him you wail so wild, As though the very world were dead? Arise, arise! Threaten not the tranquil skies!

Do not all things die? 'Tis but a faded flower! Dear lives exhale perpetually With every fleeting hour. Rachael for ever weeps her little ones; For ever Rizpah mourneth her slain sons. Arise, arise! Threaten not the tranquil skies!

Only a little child! Long generations pass: Behold them flash a moment wild With stormlight, a pale headlong mass