Innocence Lost

No crime more grievous: no higher cost:
No wound more bitter than innocence lost.

I

Sweet little lamb! Innocent child!
Young and so helpless: meek and so mild:
What makes thee weep and sigh? why dost thou moan?
Why art thou lying here sad and alone?
Innocent lamb! when wilt thou rise?
When wilt thou wipe all the tears from thine eyes?
Who will protect thee when daylight is gone?
Dormouse or rabbit? tender young fawn?
Surely October’s gray ashen skies
Lend thee no comfort; – wilt thou not rise?
Or dost thou mourn some unspeakable loss?
Pillow thy head, then, upon the green moss.
Gentle light filtered through leaves intertwined
Falls on thee, child, where thou art reclined –
Comforted only by badger and hind.

II

Sweet little lamb! why all these tears?
Thou art a child of only five years:
Thou art too young thus dejected to cry;
Innocent child – please tell me why.
Where is thy father? Hast thou no mother?
Uncle or cousin? sister or brother?
Why do they leave thee here weeping alone?
What dost thou tell me? thy father is gone?
This, then, is why thou didst flee in despair –
Fled to the forest – fled anywhere –
Fled because thou wert afraid and alone –
Fled from thy family – because he is gone?
Lingering illness hath robbed him of breath?
Thou art too young to be troubled with death.
Childish simplicity now hath been lost, –
Faith and naivety both have been lost; –
Thou hast gained wisdom – but great was the cost.

III

Sweet little lamb! Innocent child!
Young and so helpless: meek and so mild:
Pillow thy head now upon the cold moss; –
Pillow thy head as thou mournest thy loss.
Words cannot comfort, nor reason, nor rhyme:
Thine only balm is the passage of time.

No crime more grievous! no higher cost!
No wound more bitter than innocence lost.

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