Poor Children

From the French of Victor Hugo

This little being guard with care;
     He is very great; in him God is;
Before their birth these babes are fair
     Star-atoms in the blue abyss.

Into our harsh and hollow throng
     They come, the gift of God to us;
His word is on their stammering tongue,
     Their smile—his mercy pardons thus.

Their tender light above us creeps’
     Ah me! what happiness their due;
If they are hungry Eden weeps,
     If they are cold Heaven shivers too!

Miseries, of Innocence the dower,
     Accuse the man of many sins;
Man holds the angel in his power.
     What thunder in deep heaven begins
When God, requiring the frail things
     That, where we slumber in the shade
He sent us, with their folded wings,
     Re-finds them in vile rags arrayed!