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A Mother's Lament

For the Death of Her Son.

     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 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 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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