UPON A CHILD THAT DIED
UPON A CHILD THAT DIED
Robert Herrick
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.
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Public domain text via the PoetryDB open archive.
