| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
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| Coventry Patmore. 1823–1896 |
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| 763. The Toys |
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| MY little Son, who look'd from thoughtful eyes | |
| And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise, | |
| Having my law the seventh time disobey'd, | |
| I struck him, and dismiss'd | |
| With hard words and unkiss'd, | 5 |
| —His Mother, who was patient, being dead. | |
| Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep, | |
| I visited his bed, | |
| But found him slumbering deep, | |
| With darken'd eyelids, and their lashes yet | 10 |
| From his late sobbing wet. | |
| And I, with moan, | |
| Kissing away his tears, left others of my own; | |
| For, on a table drawn beside his head, | |
| He had put, within his reach, | 15 |
| A box of counters and a red-vein'd stone, | |
| A piece of glass abraded by the beach, | |
| And six or seven shells, | |
| A bottle with bluebells, | |
| And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art, | 20 |
| To comfort his sad heart. | |
| So when that night I pray'd | |
| To God, I wept, and said: | |
| Ah, when at last we lie with trancèd breath, | |
| Not vexing Thee in death, | 25 |
| And Thou rememberest of what toys | |
| We made our joys, | |
| How weakly understood | |
| Thy great commanded good, | |
| Then, fatherly not less | 30 |
| Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay, | |
| Thou'lt leave Thy wrath, and say, | |
| 'I will be sorry for their childishness.' | |
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