Page:Enoch Arden, etc - Tennyson - 1864.djvu/138

xvi.

That was the first time, too, that ever I thought of death.

There lay the sweet little body that never had drawn a breath.
I had not wept, little Anne, not since I had been a wife;
But I wept like a child that day, for the babe had fought for his life.

xvii.

His dear little face was troubled, as if with anger or pain:

I look'd at the still little body—his trouble had all been in vain.
For Willy I cannot weep, I shall see him another morn:
But I wept like a child for the child that was dead before he was born.