A Lament Poem by Charles Kingsley
A Lament
The merry merry lark was up and singing,
And the hare was out and feeding on the lea;
And the merry merry bells below were ringing,
When my child's laugh rang through me.
Now the hare is snared and dead beside the snow-yard,
And the lark beside the dreary winter sea;
And the baby in his cradle in the churchyard
Sleeps sound till the bell brings me.
Eversley, 1848.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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8/6/2026 9:09:09 PM # rel_20260806T081513Z_580e7f4
Lament. That was probably the best lament I have read on this site. Simple, strait and true from the grieving heart of a parent