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!

Czytaj dalej: Miła ma jak czerwona róża - Robert Burns