A Mother's Lament For The Death Of Her Son.

Robert Burns

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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