Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/86

 Slow-pacing in his wonted haunt, On whose tall, broad, howdah'd back The child and I along the track Three years ago swung, full of glee— Now the child is not with me!

When our wild praying seemed to stir God's awful executioner, Whose blank, set countenance faint quavered, Whose dull resolve a moment wavered, And when sweet life seemed to repel Death's white horror, it befell That when he would descend the stair, Patient he paused for one to bear Him feeble, and I filled the want; So he named me his elephant.

Passing through the gay arcade, Where toys for children are displayed, Anon I pause before a toy, Dreaming how a little boy Will lighten mirth from his dear face If I buy it—for a space Unremembering my home Without him is but blind and dumb! His sacred toys lie idle now: O'er them the pale anguished brow