Robert Burns
Ayrshire / Scotland
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A Mother's Lament For Her Son's Death

Rating: 3.0
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.
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Friday, October 24, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: death
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COMMENTS
Bill Wright 01 October 2016
What a beautiful poem, simple but effective.
1 0 Reply

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