OH, 'tis a touching thing, to make one weep, -- A tender infant with its curtained eye, Breathing as it would neither live nor die With that unchanging countenance of sleep! As if its silent dream, serene and deep, Had lined its slumber with a still blue sky So that the passive cheeks unconscious lie With no more life than roses -- just to keep The blushes warm, and the mild, odorous breath. O blossom boy! so calm is thy repose, So sweet a compromise of life and death, 'Tis pity those fair buds should e'er unclose For memory to stain their inward leaf, Tinging thy dreams with unacquainted grief. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CENTENNIAL MEDITATION OF COLUMBIA by SIDNEY LANIER RORY O'MORE; OR, ALL FOR GOOD LUCK by SAMUEL LOVER TICHBORNE'S ELEGY, WRITTEN IN THE TOWER BEFORE HIS EXECUTION by CHIDIOCK TICHBORNE AT THE GRAVE OF BURNS; SEVEN YEARS AFTER HIS DEATH by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS: PART 3: 34. MUTABILITY by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH |