Classic Poem

STATIO PRIMA

Why do I make so much of Aber Fall?
Four years ago
My little boy was with me here —
That's all —
He died next year:
He died just seven years old,
A very gentle child, yet bold,
Having no fear.
You have seen such?
They are not much?
No ... no.
And yet he was a very righteous child,
Stood up for what was right,
Intolerant of wrong —
Pure azure light
Was cisterned in his eyes;
We thought him wise
Beyond his years — so sweet and mild,
But strong
For justice, doing what he could —
Poor little soul — to make all children good.
I almost think — and yet I am to blame —
He was a different child from others;
He had three sisters and two brothers:
He seemed a little king
Among the children — ah! 'tis a common thing —
Parents are all the same —
You've seen those kings — yes, yes —
Of course ... and yet ... the righteousness ...
The ... Never mind! he came
With me to Aber Fall —
That's all, that's all.