Coventry Patmore - The Toys

Lyrics
My little Son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise Having my law the seventh time disobey'd I struck him, and dismiss'd With hard words and unkiss'd His Mother, who was patient, being dead Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep I visited his bed But found him slumbering deep With darken'd eyelids, and their lashes yet From his late sobbing wet And I, with moan Kissing away his tears, left others of my own; For, on a table drawn beside his head He had put, within his reach A box of counters and a red-vein'd stone A piece of glass abraded by the beach And six or seven shells A bottle with bluebells And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art To comfort his sad heart So when that night I pray'd To God, I wept, and said: Ah, when at last we lie with tranced breath Not vexing Thee in death And Thou rememberest of what toys We made our joys How weakly understood Thy great commanded good Then, fatherly not less Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay Thou'lt leave Thy wrath, and say "I will be sorry for their childishness."
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Credits
- Writers
- Coventry Patmore