The Child Dying
Unfriendly friendly universe,
I pack your stars into my purse,
And bid you so farewell.
That I can leave you, quite go out,
Go out, go out beyond all doubt,
My father says, is the miracle.
You are so great, and I so small:
I am nothing, you are all:
Being nothing, I can take this way.
Oh I need neither rise nor fall,
For when I do not move at all
I shall be out of all your day.
It's said some memory will remain
In the other place, grass in the rain,
Light on the land, sun on the sea,
A flitting grace, a phantom face,
But the world is out.
There is not place
Where it and its ghost can ever be.
Father, father, I dread this air
Blown from the far side of despair
The cold cold corner.
What house, what hold,
What hand is there? I look and see
And the great round world grows weak and old.
Hold my hand, oh hold it fast-
I am changing! - until at last
My hand in yours no more will change,
Though yours change on.
You here, I there,
So hand in hand, twin-leafed despair -
I did not know death was so strange.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
More Poems by Edwin Muir
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on The Child Dying
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The Child Dying here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.