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Poem by Robert Burns


A Mothers Lament For The Death Of Her Son


FATE gave the word, the arrow sped,
  And pierced my darlings heart;
And with him all the joys are fled
  Life can to me impart!
By cruel hands the sapling drops,
  In dust dishonourd laid:
So fell the pride of all my hopes,
  My ages future shade.

The mother-linnet in the brake
  Bewails her ravishd young;
So I, for my lost darlings sake,
  Lament the live-day long.
Death, oft Ive feard thy fatal blow;
  Now, fond, I bare my breast;
O, do thou kindly lay me low
  With him I love, at rest!

1788

                      Robert Burns


Robert Burns's other poems:
  1. Scroggam
  2. Lines Written on a Bank-note
  3. Lines Written at Loudon Manse
  4. To Alex Cunningham, Writer
  5. How Lang And Dreary


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