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Friday, 22 March 2013

A Mother's Lament for the Death of Her Son-Robert Burns 1759-1796, Poem, 1788

Fate gave the word, the
arrow sped,
And pierc'd my darling's heart;
And with him all the joys
are fled
Life can to me impart.

By cruel hands the
sapling drops,
In dust dishonours'd laid;
So fell the pride of all my
hopes,
My age's future shade.

The mother-Linnet in the
brake
Bewails her ravish'd
young,
 So I, for my lost darling's
sake,
Lament the live-day long.

Death, oft I've feared thy
fatal blow.
Now, fond, I bare my
breast;
O, do thou kindly lay me
low
With him I love, at rest!

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