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The little white birds

The little white birds


Through the following poem, Fay Inchfawn* gives voice to a hidden grief – the loss of a little soul whom she never knew, yet would never forget.



To a Little White Bird

Into the world you came, and I was dumb,
Because ‘God did it’, so the wise ones said;
I wonder sometimes ‘Did you really come?’
And ‘are you truly . . . dead?’

Thus you went out—alone and uncaressed;
O sweet, soft thing, in all your infant grace,
I never held you in my arms, nor pressed
Warm kisses on your face!

But, in the Garden of the Undefiled,
My soul will claim you . . . you, and not another;
I shall hold out my arms, and say, ‘My child!’
And you will call me ‘Mother!’


Fay Inchfawn*


In November, we traditionally remember and pray especially for the Holy Souls.

In addition, let us remember in our prayers those who grieve the loss of tiny babies – their own ‘little white birds’.


* Fay Inchfawn (1880 – 1978)  was born in Portishead and lived near Bath all her life.
She was one of
the most prolific female writers of the inter war years.

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