Poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Epitaph on an Infant

Ere sin could blight, or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care;
The opening bud to heaven conveyed,
And bade it blossom there. 

1. Lines
2. On a Connubial Rupture in High Life
3. On a Ruined House in a Romantic Country
4. Brockley Coomb
5. An Invocation

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