The Toys

The Father's Anger

¹My little Son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes

²And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise,

³Having my law the seventh time disobey'd,

⁴I struck him, and dismiss'd

⁵With hard words and unkiss'd,

⁶His Mother, who was patient, being dead.

⁷Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep,

⁸I visited his bed,

⁹But found him slumbering deep,

¹⁰With darken'd eyelids, and their lashes yet

¹¹From his late sobbing wet.

The Father's Sorrow

¹²And I, with moan,

¹³Kissing away his tears, left others of my own;

¹⁴For, on a table drawn beside his head,

¹⁵He had put, within his reach,

¹⁶A box of counters and a red-vein'd stone,

¹⁷A piece of glass abraded by the beach

¹⁸And six or seven shells,

¹⁹A bottle with bluebells

²⁰And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art,

²¹To comfort his sad heart.

²²So when that night I pray'd

²³To God, I wept, and said:

²⁴Ah, when at last we lie with trancèd breath,

²⁵Not vexing Thee in death,

²⁶And Thou rememberest of what toys

²⁷We made our joys,

²⁸How weakly understood

²⁹Thy great commanded good,

³⁰Then, fatherly not less

³¹Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay,

³²Thou'lt leave Thy wrath, and say,

³³"I will be sorry for their childishness."