Poem by Francis Thompson

To a Child

Whenas my life shall time with funeral tread
The heavy death-drum of the beaten hours,
Following, sole mourner, mine own manhood dead,
Poor forgot corse, where not a maid strows flowers;
When I you love am no more I you love,
But go with unsubservient feet, behold
Your dear face through changed eyes, all grim change prove;--
A new man, mock-ed with misname of old;
When shamed Love keep his ruined lodging, elf!
When, ceremented in mouldering memory,
Myself is hears-ed underneath myself,
And I am but the monument of me:-
O to that tomb be tender then, which bears
Only the name of him it sepulchres! 

1. Dedication to Wilfred and Alice Meynell
2. Unto This Last
3. Orient Ode
4. After Her Going
5. Epilogue to the Poet's Sitter

Edmund Gosse To a Child ("Thou hast the colors of the spring")

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