A young boy, talking with his father, wonders how he can love anyone more than himself. He doesn’t refuse affection—he simply compares his love to a little bird that pecks crumbs by the door. A priest overhears and erupts with trembling rage. He seizes the child by the hair, drags him to the altar, and calls him a fiend for setting reason up against holy mystery. The weeping child can’t be heard, the parents’ tears are useless, as the boy is stripped, chained, and burned in a sacred spot where many had been burned before. The speaker’s voice is stunned and grieving, closing with a bitter question: does this really happen on England’s shores? The mood is one of cold horror and sorrowful outrage, a quiet nightmare of innocence destroyed by self-righteous cruelty.
A LITTLE BOY LOST — Summary
"Nought loves another as itself, Nor venerates another so, Nor is it possible to thought A greater than itself to know.
"And, father, how can I love you Or any of my brothers more? I love you like the little bird That 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 the priestly care.
And standing on the altar high, "Lo, what a fiend is here!" said he: "One who sets reason up for judge Of 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 place Where many had been burned before; The weeping parents wept in vain. Are such thing done on Albion's shore?