Look at his pretty face for just one minute !
His braided frock and dainty buttoned shoes,
His firm-shut hand, the favorite plaything in it,
Then, tell me, mothers, was it not hard to lose
And miss him from my side,—
My little boy that died?
How many another boy, as dear and charming,
His father's hope, his mother's one delight,
Slips through strange sicknesses, all fear disarming, And lives a long, long life in parents' sight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem