A Little Boy
Lost
‘Nought loves another as itself,
‘Nor
venerates another so,
‘Nor
is it possible to Thought
‘A
greater than itself to know:
‘And
Father, how can I love you
‘Or any of my brothers more?
‘I
love you like the little bird
‘That
picks up crumbs around the door.’
The
Priest sat by and heard the child,
In
trembling zeal he seiz’d his hair
He
led him by his little coat,
And
all admir’d the Priestly care.
And
standing on the alter high,
‘Lo!
What a fiend is here!’ said he,
‘One
who sets reason up for judge
‘Of our most holy Mystery.’
The
weeping child could not be heard,
The
weeping parents wept in vain;
They
strip’d him to his little shirt,
And
bound him in an iron chain;
And
burn’d him in a holy place,
Where
many had been burn’d before:
The
weeping parents wept in vain.
Are
such things done on