Infancy Poem by William Bell Scott

SUGGESTED BY A RAILWAY ACCIDENT.

'Let him lie still,' the young wife cried, 'right soon
I shall be back,' and on my lap she laid
Her swaddled nurseling; startled even dismayed,
I looked down on the face like a white moon,
On the closed eyes and open mouth, no spoon
Had yet touched, and could see its breathing made
The folds expand in which it was arrayed:
It was alive, yet knew not night from noon.

Beautiful was it? I can scarcely say.
I never held so young a thing before;
But wonderful it was to me, and may
Be likened to a shrine within closed door,
Closed, unlit, but from whence a breath made way
Te Deum laudamus, saying o'er and o'er.