I saw whe shroud did lurk
A curious frame of Nature’s work;
A flo crushe bud,
A nameless piece of Babyhood,
as in her cradle-coffin lying;
Extinct, he sense of dying:
So soon to exche imprisoning womb
For darker closets of tomb!
S ope an eye, and put
A clear beam fortraig
For to see
tality.
Riddle of destiny, who can show
t visit meant, or know
thy errand here below?
S Nature blind
Checkd her hand, and changed her mind,
Just
A finistern fault?
Could sire,
Or lackd shean fire
(ith her nine moons long workings sickend)
t stle limbs have quickend?
Limbs so firm, to assure
Life of ure:
omans self in miniature!
Limbs so fair, t supply
(t cold imagery)
tor to make Beauty by.
Or did tern-eyed Fate descry
t babe or mot die;
So in mercy left tock
And cut to save the shock
Of young years he pain
ate comes back again
to t of wife,
thenceforward drags a maimèd life?
the economy of heaven is dark,
And clerks he mark,
his, should fall,
More brief than fly ephemeral
t has his day; while shrivelld crones
Stiffen o stocks and stones;
And crabbèd use the conscience sears
In sinners of an hundred years.
Mottle, mothers kiss,
Baby fond, t miss:
Rites, wom does impose,
Silver bells, and baby clothes;
Coral redder those lips
e eclipse;
Music framed for infants glee,
le never tuned for thee;
tst not, t hem,
Loving s hem.
Let not one be missing; nurse,
See the hearse
Of infant slain by doom perverse.
hy should kings and nobles have
Pictured tropo their grave,
And hee deny
tty toys o lie;
A more y?