Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Thomas Ashe. 18361889806. To Two Bereaved
YOU must be sad; for though it is to Heaven, | |
‘Tis hard to yield a little girl of seven. | |
Alas, for me ’tis hard my grief to rule, | |
Who only met her as she went to school; | |
Who never heard the little lips so sweet | 5 |
Say even ‘Good-morning,’ though our eyes would meet | |
As whose would fain be friends! How must you sigh, | |
Sick for your loss, when even so sad am I, | |
Who never clasp’d the small hands any day! | |
Fair flowers thrive round the little grave, I pray. | 10 |