Conclusion

T'was delicate and little
Livid, painful to see
balmy to touch, and brittle
A soul to be set free.

I brought it home to love
It did still waste away
So to the heavens above--
I my head turned to pray.

All it needed was care and aid,
So my heart knew, and I kept trying;
To keep its pulse, but it did fade,
Lord! it kept on dying!

On my lap it rested...
With labored breath, and a broken whine
Death, the air it had infested.
It fixed its gaze upon me, and I struggled for their shine.

The seraphic look it bore,
And its golden eye
Like the days of yore:
They closed without a sigh.

The little chest ceased heaving,
So sudden it did!
I should’ve known it was leaving...
But Reason from me, and I from reason hid.

My fingers, they felt the body so cold
Stone it was, that angelic face!
And like the swift awakening of some terror old;
I, scattered on the ground, horror around me in embrace.

And then I wished to see it no more
That child, that form, so pure, so frail!
Lord! How greatly it battled to stay ashore!
Lord! How greatly it did fail!

How it stormed that night...
Trees sprawled uprooted.
And the earth was wet and just right
For a burial so suited!

And there it was laid,
Wrapped in possessions sad
Resigned to its repose, to degrade--
Into the loam that clad.

Lord, they tell me so much;
Of your deeds, noble and high,
Lord, They speak of your existence, and things such
Lord! How wretchedly they lie!