Poem by Robert Burns

A Mother’s Lament for the Death of Her Son

FATE gave the word, the arrow sped,
  And pierced 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 dishonour’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 fear’d thy fatal blow;
  Now, fond, I bare my breast;
O, do thou kindly lay me low
  With him I love, at rest!

1. Sleep’st Thou, or Wak’st Thou
2. Simmer’s a Pleasant Time
3. It Is Na, Jean, Thy Bonnie Face
4. The Bonnie Wee Thing
5. Castle Gordon

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