A Dead Infant's Ring

The Child is gone - the lonesome ring remains.

So frail a link could scarcely hope to bind

A sprite as free as the unfettered wind

To an impeding world that it disdains.

That child was never meant to bear the pains

That bow the bleeding shoulders of mankind;

A dreamy while the Cherub was confined, -

Then quietly he shed his galling chains.

How came he here? Our gilded world, 'twould seem,

Enticed his truant feet to quit the pale

Of heaven's playground; angels came apace -

As to St. Peter, bound in Herod's gaol -

Unloosed his chains and faded with no trace

Save this one link, - the girdle of a dream.