Читать книгу A Book of Christian Sonnets - william Allen - Страница 48

44. ON THE DEATH OF MY DAUGHTER. (notes)

Poor man, who name of Father dost not know,

Nor e'er hast felt that bond of sweetest might,

Which binds thee to thy child; on whose glad sight

That fairest image on the earth below—

In beauty like heav'n's various-tinted bow—

Her Mother's picture, lovely daughter bright

Ne'er shone;—thou hast not seen joy's earthly height!—

All this I've seen, and lost to my huge woe!

And yet I do not need thy pity, friend;

For though the flow'r of seventeen summers' bloom

Was smitten, still it blossoms without end

In garden, where ne'er falls a blighting doom.

A ransom'd sinner did my Daughter die,

In Christian hope, with glory in her eye!