On Seeing a Child Blush on His First View of a Corpse

'Tis good our earliest sympathies to trace!
And I would muse upon a little thing;
What brought the blush into that infant's face
When first confronted with the rueful king?
He boldly came — what made his courage less?
A signal for the heart to beat less free
Are all imperial presences, and he
Was awed by Death's consummate kingliness;
A strange bewilder'd look of shame he wore;
'Twas the first mortal hint that cross'd the lad;
He fear'd the stranger, though he knew no more,
Surmising and surprised, but, most, afraid,
As Crusoe, wandering on the desert shore,
Saw but an alien footmark and was sad!