A Little Boy Lost

‘Nought loves another as itself,Nor venerates another so,Nor is it possible to thoughtA greater than itself to know.

‘And, father, how can I love youOr any of my brothers more?I love you like the little birdThat picks up crumbs around the door.’

The Priest sat by and heard the child;In trembling zeal he seized his hair,He led him by his little coat,And all admired his priestly care.

And standing on the altar high,‘Lo, what a fiend is here!’ said he:‘One who sets reason up for judgeOf our most holy mystery.’

The weeping child could not be heard,The weeping parents wept in vain:They stripped him to his little shirt,And bound him in an iron chain,

And burned him in a holy placeWhere many had been burned before;The weeping parents wept in vain.Are such things done on Albion’s shore?