He lived, he played, a little laughing sprite: <br />Why, Nature, didst thou snatch him from the light? <br />Hast thou not myriad birds within thy bowers? <br />Stars, and great woods, blue skies, and ocean wild? <br />Why, then, from his lone mother snatch the child, <br />And hid him underneath the bed of flowers? <br /> <br />This one child more cannot enlarge thy reign, <br />Star-spangled Nature; thou no joy dost gain. <br />The Mother's heart so many cares oppress— <br />That heart whose joys do equal pangs create— <br />Abyss, as thou, O Nature! deep and great, <br />Is empty made and void, by this child less.<br /><br />Victor Marie Hugo<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/epitaph-60/
