| Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900. |
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| Thomas Ashe. 1836–1889 |
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| 806. To Two Bereaved |
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| YOU must be sad; for though it is to Heaven, | |
| 'Tis hard to yield a little girl of seven. | |
| Alas, for me 'tis hard my grief to rule, | |
| Who only met her as she went to school; | |
| Who never heard the little lips so sweet | 5 |
| Say even 'Good-morning,' though our eyes would meet | |
| As whose would fain be friends! How must you sigh, | |
| Sick for your loss, when even so sad am I, | |
| Who never clasp'd the small hands any day! | |
| Fair flowers thrive round the little grave, I pray. | 10 |
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