Classic Poem

( ON THE PORTRAIT OF A CHILD LOST IN THE " LUSITANIA " )

Dear boy of the seraphic face,
With brow of power and mouth of grace,
And deep, round eyes, set far apart,
So that the mind should match the heart!

Not Raphael's leaning cherub had
More beauty than this winsome lad,
Nor Andrea's little John more joy
Than dimpled in this darling boy.

What mother could so happy be
As not to covet such as he?
What childless passer could forego
The smiling of that Cupid's-bow?

Here promise spoke in every curve:
The wit to see, the heart to serve;
In fine proportions here did reign
An open nature, sweet and sane.

What wonder fancy vied with hope,
To read his radiant horoscope,
And find within his future deed
The rescue of some mighty need: —

A patriot, to save the State;
A bard, to take the sting from Fate;
A prophet, men should know not of,
To lift the fainting world by love!

Mourn those — and mourn not with despair —
Who find life's last adventure fair,
But let your treasured tears be spilled
For noble presage unfulfilled.

Mine fall unbidden as I look,
Here, upon youth's unfinished book,
And with the loss my heart is torn
As Heaven had withdrawn the morn.

Ah, could I know why over me
His spirit has such potency,
Then might I know how love began
And stays, the mystery of Man.

Child of the future! Beauty's flower!
His gentle image should have power
The conscience of a realm to wring
And haunt the pillow of a king.