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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

EPITAPH ON A CHILD, by                    
First Line: Here buried lies an infant's mortal stole
Last Line: Of years, unto thy father's added be!


HERE buried lies an infant's mortal stole:
Heaven's home, ne'er more to quit, that stainless soul
Has sought, and 'midst the Blest, thro' blessed days
Of endless joy doth God Almighty praise.
Exalted there, unfailing bliss doth know,
Nor can regret the life of here below--
The life we live, ne'er safe from morn to morn--
Such the hard laws 'neath which mankind is born.
Blest soul! Thou, in this age when griefs abound,
In God thy Father's bosom rest hast found;
Thine earthly father left, with pitying eyes
Thou seest his regrets and miseries.
Witness his tears upon the record shed,
'Graved on the stone that shields thy silent bed.
Rest, O sweet child, and what are torn from thee
Of years, unto thy father's added be!





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