'Be, rather than be call'd, a child of God,'
Death whisper'd!--with assenting nod,
Its head upon its mother's breast,
The Baby bow'd, without demur--
Of the kingdom of the Blest
Possessor, not inheritor.
April 8th, 1799.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The baby dying so young - still innocent of all the trappings of life - did not have to 'regain' by redemptive grace the heaven it had never forfeited.