Death, I told him: and, surprise Deepening more his wildwood eyes (Like some sweet fleet thing's whose breath Speaks all spring though nought it saith), Up he turned his rosebright face Glorious with its seven years' grace, Asking--What is death? A CHILD'S PITY No sweeter thing than children's ways and wiles, Surely, we say, can gladden eyes and ears: Yet sometime sweeter than their words or smiles Are even their tears. To one for once a piteous tale was read, How, when the murderous mother crocodile Was slain, her fierce brood famished, and lay dead, Starved, by the Nile. In vast green reed-beds on the vast grey slime Those monsters motherless and helpless lay, Perishing only for the parent's crime Whose seed were they. Hours after, toward the dusk, our blithe small bird Of Paradise, who has our hearts in keeping, Was heard or seen, but hardly seen or heard, For pity weeping. He was so sorry, sitting still apart, For the poor little crocodiles, he said. Six years had given him, for an angel's heart, A child's instead. Feigned tears the false beasts shed for murderous ends, We know from travellers' tales of crocodiles: But these tears wept upon them of my friend's Outshine his smiles. What heavenliest angels of what heavenly city Could match the heavenly heart in children here? The heart that hallowing all things with its pity Casts out all fear? So lovely, so divine, so dear their laughter Seems to us, we know not what could be more dear: But lovelier yet we see the sign thereafter Of such a tear. With sense of love half laughing and half weeping We met your tears, our small sweet-spirited friend: Let your love have us in its heavenly keeping To life's last end. A CHILD'S LAUGHTER All the bells of heaven may ring, All the birds of heaven may sing, All the wells on earth may spring, All the winds on earth may bring All sweet sounds together; Sweeter far than all things heard, Hand of harper, tone of bird, Sound of woods at sundawn stirred, Welling water's winsome word, Wind in warm wan weather, One thing yet there is, that none Hearing ere its chime be done Knows not well the sweetest one Heard of man beneath the sun, Hoped in heaven hereafter; Soft and strong and loud and light, Very sound of very light Heard from morning's rosiest height, When the soul of all delight Fills a child's clear laughter.