The Toys

My little son, who looked from tearful eyes,

And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise,

Having my law the seventh time disobey'd.

I struck him, and dismiss'd

With hard words and unkiss'd,

His mother, who was patient, being dead.

Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep,

I visited his bed,

But found him slumbering deep,

With darkened eyelids, and their lashes yet

From his late sobbing wet.

And I, with moan,

Kissing away his tears, left others of my own;

For, on a table drawn beside his head,

He had put, within his reach,

A box of counters and a red veined stone,

A piece of glass abraded by the beach

And six or seven shells,

A bottle of bluebells

And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art.

To comfort his sad heart.

So when that night I prayed

To God, I wept, and said:

Ah, when we lie at last with tranced breath

Not vexing Thee in death

And Thou rememberest of what toys

We made our joys

How weakly understood

Thy great commanded good.

Then fatherly not less

Than I, whom Thou has moulded from the clay,

Thou'lt leave Thy wrath, and say,

'I will be sorry for their childishness'.

.................................................................................Coventry Patmore