The Child's Wish Granted

Do you remember, my sweet, absent son,
How in the soft June days forever done
You loved the heavens so warm and clear and high;
And when I lifted you, soft came your cry, -
"Put me 'way up - 'way, 'way up in blue sky"?

I laughed and said I could not; - set you down,
Your gray eyes wonder-filled beneath that crown
Of bright hair gladdening me as you raced by.
Another Father now, more strong than I,
Has borne you voiceless to your dear blue sky.

George Parsons Lathrop

George Parsons Lathrop (August 25, 1851 – April 19, 1898) was an American poet, novelist, and editor. He was closely associated with the literary world of New England and was a prominent figure in the late 19th century. Lathrop was also known for his marriage to Rose Hawthorne, the daughter of famed novelist Nathaniel Hawthorne, and for his efforts in editing and preserving Hawthorne's works. His contributions spanned various literary forms including poetry and prose.

George Parsons Lathrop

The Lover's Year (Moods Of Love.)

George Parsons Lathrop, Simple Poetry

The Flown Soul

George Parsons Lathrop, Simple Poetry

Before The Snow

George Parsons Lathrop, Simple Poetry

Contentment.

George Parsons Lathrop, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

In Memory of a Child

    The angels guide him now,
    And watch his curly head,
    And lead him in their games,
    The little boy we led.

    He cannot come to harm,
    He knows more than we know,
    His light is brighter far
    Than daytime here below.

    His path leads on and on,
    Through pleasant lawns and flowers,
    His brown eyes open wide
    At grass more green than ours.

    With playmates like himself,
    The shining boy will sing,
    Exploring wondrous woods,
    Sweet with eternal spring.

Vachel Lindsay

The Child's Appeal.

An Incident Of The French Revolution And Reign Of Robespierre.


Day dawned above a city's mart,
Yet not 'mid peace and prayer:
The shouts of frenzied multitudes
Were on the thrilling air.

A guiltless man to death was led,
Through crowded streets and wide,
And a fairy child, with waving curls,
Was clinging to his side.

The father's brow with pride was calm,
But, trusting and serene,
The child's was like the Holy One's
In Raphael's paintings seen.

She shrank not from the heartless throng,
Nor from the scaffold high;
But now and then, with beaming smile,
Addressed her parent's eye.

Athwart the golden flood of morn
Was poised the wing of Death,
As 'neath the fearful guillotine
The doomed one drew his breath.

Mary Gardiner Horsford

A Child-World

The Child-World - long and long since lost to view -
            A Fairy Paradise! -
    How always fair it was and fresh and new -
        How every affluent hour heaped heart and eyes
            With treasures of surprise!

    Enchantments tangible: The under-brink
            Of dawns that launched the sight
    Up seas of gold: The dewdrop on the pink,
        With all the green earth in it and blue height
            Of heavens infinite:

    The liquid, dripping songs of orchard-birds -
            The wee bass of the bees, -
    With lucent deeps of silence afterwards;
        The gay, clandestine whisperings of the breeze
            And glad leaves of the trees.

            *            *            *            *            *

James Whitcomb Riley

I Would I Were A Child
I would I were a child,
That I might look, and laugh, and say, My Father!
And follow thee with running feet, or rather
Be led through dark and wild!

How I would hold thy hand,
My glad eyes often to thy glory lifting!
Should darkness 'twixt thy face and mine come drifting,
My heart would but expand.

If an ill thing came near,
I would but creep within thy mantle's folding,
Shut my eyes close, thy hand yet faster holding,
And soon forget my fear.

O soul, O soul, rejoice!
Thou art God's child indeed, for all thy sinning;
A poor weak child, yet his, and worth the winning
With saviour eyes and voice.

Who spake the words? Didst Thou?
Th...
George MacDonald

To A Little Boy.
I.

Dear little one with eyes so blue,
And silken ringlets of flaxen hair!
Oh, may life have in store for you
Something better than anguish and care!
Oh, may thy footsteps guided be
In paths of peace and pleasantness!
Oh, may those bright eyes never see
Much of the cold world's bitterness!

II.

Dear little one with innocent lips,
Tasting life's cup at the sparkling brim!
Oh, may the dregs that sorrow sips
Ever be kept aloof from him!
Oh, may the smile on his dimpled face
Through the years to come still linger there!
Oh, may Time's fingers gently place
The silver strands in his flaxen hair!
George W. Doneghy

I Would I Were A Child.
I would I were a child,
That I might look, and laugh, and say, My Father!
And follow Thee with running feet, or rather
Be led thus through the wild.

How I would hold thy hand!
My glad eyes often to thy glory lifting,
Which casts all beauteous shadows, ever shifting,
Over this sea and land.

If a dark thing came near,
I would but creep within thy mantle's folding,
Shut my eyes close, thy hand yet faster holding,
And so forget my fear.

O soul, O soul, rejoice!
Thou art God's child indeed, for all thy sinning;
A trembling child, yet his, and worth the winning
With gentle eyes and voice.

The words like echoes flow.
They are too good; mine I can call them never;
Such water drinking once, I should ...
George MacDonald