Treasure Island

Robert Herrick

(1591-1674 / London / England)

Epitaph upon a Child that died


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.

Submitted: Saturday, January 04, 2003

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

What do you think this poem is about?



Read poems about / on: child, children

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

improve

Comments about this poem (Epitaph upon a Child that died by Robert Herrick )

Enter the verification code :

Read all 1 comments »
[Hata Bildir]