Poesy

A Little Boy Lost

"Nought loves another as itself,Nor venerates another so,Nor is it possible to thoughtA greater than itself to know.

"And, father, how can I love youOr any of my brothers more?I love you like the little birdThat picks up crumbs around the door."

The Priest sat by and heard the child;In trembling zeal he seized his hair,He led him by his little coat,And all admired the priestly care.

And standing on the altar high,"Lo, what a fiend is here!" said he:"One who sets reason up for judgeOf our most holy mystery."

The weeping child could not be heard,The weeping parents wept in vain:They stripped him to his little shirt,And bound him in an iron chain,

And burned him in a holy placeWhere many had been burned before;The weeping parents wept in vain.Are such thing done on Albion's shore?

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