A little child lay on his bed And drew a heavy breath, And moaning raised his weary head, Damp with the dews of Death; Upon his bed the sunset cast The broad and yellow ray, That oft in pleasant evenings past Had warned him from his play; He clasped his Mother's hand and sighed And to his lip arose A little prayer he learnt beside Her knee at even's close. And thus he prayed, ere darkness stole Upon the silence deep, The Blessed One to keep his soul, And guard him in his sleep. "Oh! gentle Jesus, meek and mild, "Look down on me, a little child; "Oh! pity my simplicity, "And grant me grace to come to Thee! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SAPPHIC SUICIDE NOTE by JAMES GALVIN GHOSTS OF THE OLD YEAR by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: MAGRADY GRAHAM by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE POET'S TESTAMENT by GEORGE SANTAYANA |