Dead.
I.
Where the child's joy-carol
Rang sweeter than the spheres,
There, centre of deep silence,
Darkness, and tears.
On his bed
The child lay dead.
II.
There a man sat stolid,
Stupefied and cold,
Save when the lamp's flicker
To poor love told
Some mocking lie
Of quivering eye,
Or lip that said,
"He is not dead."
