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Frederick
George Scott
COLLECTED
POEMS
My
Little Son
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My little son, my little son, he calls to me for
ever
Across the gulfs and through
the mists which shroud him from my
sight;
I hear him in the noonday, in the midst of all the
turmoil,
I hear him, oh, so plainly,
in the silence of the night.
My little son, my little son, I see in clearest
vision
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The merry face, the deep,
clear eyes, the crown of golden hair.
But these, ah, these are sleeping where the hillside
glows with sunset,
And the little boy, my darling that I loved so,
is not there.
My little son, my little son, there are starry paths
at night-time,
Above the swaying tree-tops
where the birds are fast asleep; |
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Does
he wander up and down them with the winds in endless
play-time?
Does he read in sudden manhood
all the wonders of the deep?
My little son, my little son, he hovers ever near
me,
I meet him in the garden
walks, he speaks in wind and rain;
He comes and nestles by me on my pillow in the darkness, |
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Till the golden hands of
sunrise draw him back to God again. [Page
32] |
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