Elegy Writ Small
Woman with Dead Child (1903) by Käthe Kollwitz
Look at you, little wanderer.
How well you spent your days.
You, the curious conqueror
Of spoons and household maze.
But where have the angels hid the gleam
That danced in your open eye?
Restless I shall pass my days
Remembering every tear I made it cry.
What lovely cursive voyage
Your naked feet did trod
Ere boldly to paper’s edge
You leapt to the arms of God.
Whatever of earth be lost in glory
May it never burn those precious nights
Where sticks were swords, pebbles gold,
And dragons slain by us two knights.
For you the rough world was glossed,
And never did you ask why.
Perhaps to Saints criss-crossed
You share now your secrets high.
But awake! Awake! Awake!
Rather milk than your sleepful draft.
Else pass the grail unto my lips
And cling round my neck one time last.
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