Treasure Island

John Quincy Adams

(1767-1848 / the United States)

The Death Of Children


Sure, to the mansions of the blest
When infant innocence ascends,
Some angel brighter than the rest
The spotless spirit's flight attends.
On wings of ecstasy they rise,
Beyond where worlds material roll
Till some fair sister of the skies
Receives the unpolluted soul
There, at the Almighty Father's hand,
Nearest the throne of living light,
The choirs of infant seraphs stand,
And dazzling shine, where all are bright.
That inextinguishable beam,
With dust united at our birth,
Sheds a more dim, discolored gleam,
The more it lingers upon earth.
Closed in this dark abode of clay,
The stream of glory faintly burns,
Nor unobscured the lucid ray
To its own native fount returns.
But when the Lord of mortal breath
Decrees his bounty to resume.
And points the silent shaft of death,
Which speeds an infant to the tomb
No passion fierce, no low desire,
Has quenched the radiance of the flame;
Back to its God the living fire Returns, unsullied, as it came.

Submitted: Monday, September 06, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Death Of Children by John Quincy Adams )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. O My Songs, Madhav Sarkunde
  2. Detester's haste, Hamisi Miriti
  3. Masibonisane, senzokhaya umhayi
  4. namhlanje usuku olukhulu, senzokhaya umhayi
  5. okuhle, senzokhaya umhayi
  6. babies and dogs, oskar hansen
  7. God Could be Never Wrong, Alem Hailu Gabre Kristos
  8. Khalani zinyoni vele nizolibusa, senzokhaya umhayi
  9. Fever power, hasmukh amathalal
  10. Inside a tomb, MOHAMMAD SKATI

Poem of the Day

poet James Whitcomb Riley

When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey cock
And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens
...... Read complete »

 

Modern Poem

poet Claude McKay

 
[Hata Bildir]