BONNIE wee Eric! I have sat beside the evening fire, And listened to the leaping flame still darting keenly higher, And all the while a lisping voice and eyes of sunny blue Out-whispered the flame-whisper, and outshone the flicker too. Bonnie wee Eric! To his home thoughts pleasantly return, To long fair evenings in the land of ben and brae and burn; Sweet northern words, so tunefully upon our Saxon flung, As if a mountain breeze swept by where fairy bells are hung. But sweeter than all fairy bells of quaint sweet minstrel tongue Rang out wee Eric's gentlest tone when o'er his cot I hung, And told him in the sunset glow once more the old dear story Of Him who walked the earth that we might walk with Him in glory. "He loves the little children so; -- does darling Eric love Him?" I think the angels must have smiled a rainbow-smile above him, Yet hardly brighter than his own, that lit the answer true, "Jesus, the kind good Jesus! Me do, oh, yes, me do!" Bonnie wee Eric! How the thought of heaven is full of joy, And death has not a shadow for the merry, healthful boy! To hear about the happy home he gladly turns away From picture books, or Noah's ark, or any game of play. "Mamma, some day me die, and then the angels take me home To Jesus, and me sing to Him; -- papa and you too come." So brightly said! "But, Eric, would you really like to die?" She answered him; "then, darling, tell mamma the reason why?" And then the sunny eyes looked up, and seemed at once to be Filled with a happy, solemn light, like sunrise on the sea; He said, "Yes, me would like to die, for me know where me going!" What saint-like, longing baby lips! and oh, what blessed knowing! The lesson of the "little child" is sweetly learnt from him; No questioning, no anxious faith all tremulous and dim, No drowsy love that hardly knows if it be love indeed; Not "think" or "hope," but -- "Oh, me do," -- "me know," -- his simple creed. Bonnie wee Eric! Hardly launched on this world's troubled sea, We know the little bark is safe whate'er its course may be; And short or long, or fair or rough, our hearts are glad in knowing It will be onward, heavenward still, for he "knows where he's going." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BLACK SHEEP by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON MERCILES BEAUTE; A TRIPLE ROUNDEL: 2. REJECTION by GEOFFREY CHAUCER THE HOMERIC HEXAMETER [DESCRIBED AND EXEMPLIFIED] by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE BLESSED VIRGIN, COMPARED TO THE AIR WE BREATHE by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE LORDS OF THE MAIN by JOSEPH STANSBURY SENEX TO MATT. PRIOR by JAMES KENNETH STEPHEN THE STOLEN CHILD by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |