BROUGHT forth in sorrow, and bred up in care, Two tender children here entombed are: One place, one sire, one womb their being gave, They had one mortal sickness, and one grave. And though they cannot number many years In their account, yet with their parent's tears This comfort mingles; Though their days were few, They scarcely sin, but never sorrow knew; So that they well might boast, they carried hence What riper ages lose, their innocence. You pretty losses, that revive the fate, Which, in your mother, death did antedate, O let my high-swoln grief distil on you The saddest drops of a parental dew: You ask no other dower than what my eyes Lay out on your untimely exequies: When once I have discharg'd that mournful score, Heav'n hath decreed you ne'er shall cost me more, Since you release and quit my borrow'd trust, By taking this inheritance of dust. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTLEY: THE GHOST by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE AFTER AUGHRIM by ARTHUR GERALD GEOGHEGAN A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 19. TO AN ATHLETE DYING YOUNG by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN A SPINNING SONG by JOHN FRANCIS O'DONNELL ODES IV, 7. TO TORQUATUS. DIFFUGERE NIVES by QUINTUS HORATIUS FLACCUS DEFEAT AND VICTORY by WALLACE RICE |