Sleep on, dear, now <br />The last sleep and the best, <br />And on thy brow, <br />And on thy quiet breast <br />Violets I throw. <br /> <br />Thy scanty years <br />Were mine a little while; <br />Life had no fears <br />To trouble thy brief smile <br />With toil or tears. <br /> <br />Lie still, and be <br />For evermore a child! <br />Not grudgingly, <br />Whom life has not defiled, <br />I render thee. <br /> <br />Slumber so deep, <br />No man would rashly wake; <br />I hardly weep, <br />Fain only, for thy sake. <br />To share thy sleep. <br /> <br />Yes, to be dead, <br />Dead, here with thee to-day,-- <br />When all is said <br />'Twere good by thee to lay <br />My weary head. <br /> <br />The very best! <br />Ah, child so tired of play, <br />I stand confessed: <br />I want to come thy way, <br />And share thy rest.<br /><br />Ernest Christopher Dowson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-dead-child-2/
