IN face of a great sorrow like to death <br />How do we wrestle night and day with tears; <br />How do we fast and pray; how small appears <br />The outside world, while, hanging on some breath <br />Of fragile hope, the chamber where we lie <br />Includes all space.--But if sudden at last <br />The blow falls; or by incredulity <br />Fond led, we--never having one thought cast <br />Towards years where 'the child' was not--see it die, <br />And with it all our future, all our past,-- <br />We just look round us with a dull surprise: <br />For lesser pangs we had filled earth with cries <br />Of wild and angry grief that would be heard:-- <br />But when the heart is broken--not a word.<br /><br />Dinah Maria Mulock Craik<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/david-s-child/
