David’s Child

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IN face of a great sorrow like to death
How do we wrestle night and day with tears;
How do we fast and pray; how small appears
The outside world, while, hanging on some breath
Of fragile hope, the chamber where we lie
Includes all space.--But if sudden at last
The blow falls; or by incredulity
Fond led, we--never having one thought cast
Towards years where "the child" was not--see it die,
And with it all our future, all our past,--
We just look round us with a dull surprise:
For lesser pangs we had filled earth with cries
Of wild and angry grief that would be heard:--
But when the heart is broken--not a word.

© Dinah Maria Mulock Craik