HERE she lies, a pretty bud,
Lately made of flesh and blood:
Who as soon fell fast asleep
As her little eyes did peep.
Give her strewings, but not stir
The earth that lightly covers her.
Epitaph upon a Child that died
Text and source
- Rights
- Public domain
- Source
- View original source
Poem A Day
One poem today. Another tomorrow.
Save this poem to your personal anthology and build a reading streak with a new classic each day.