In the cold, cold parlor <br />my mother laid out Arthur <br />beneath the chromographs: <br />Edward, Prince of Wales, <br />with Princess Alexandra, <br />and King George with Queen Mary. <br />Below them on the table <br />stood a stuffed loon <br />shot and stuffed by Uncle <br />Arthur, Arthur's father. <br /> <br />Since Uncle Arthur fired <br />a bullet into him, <br />he hadn't said a word. <br />He kept his own counsel <br />on his white, frozen lake, <br />the marble-topped table. <br />His breast was deep and white, <br />cold and caressable; <br />his eyes were red glass, <br />much to be desired. <br /> <br />"Come," said my mother, <br />"Come and say good-bye <br />to your little cousin Arthur." <br />I was lifted up and given <br />one lily of the valley <br />to put in Arthur's hand. <br />Arthur's coffin was <br />a little frosted cake, <br />and the red-eyed loon eyed it <br />from his white, frozen lake. <br /> <br />Arthur was very small. <br />He was all white, like a doll <br />that hadn't been painted yet. <br />Jack Frost had started to paint him <br />the way he always painted <br />the Maple Leaf (Forever). <br />He had just begun on his hair, <br />a few red strokes, and then <br />Jack Frost had dropped the brush <br />and left him white, forever. <br /> <br />The gracious royal couples <br />were warm in red and ermine; <br />their feet were well wrapped up <br />in the ladies' ermine trains. <br />They invited Arthur to be <br />the smallest page at court. <br />But how could Arthur go, <br />clutching his tiny lily, <br />with his eyes shut up so tight <br />and the roads deep in snow?<br /><br />Elizabeth Bishop<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/first-death-in-nova-scotia/
