An Epitaph On An Only Child Poem by Samuel Bowden
An Epitaph On An Only Child
Remarkable for Piety
What once had virtue, grace and wit,
Lies mould'ring now beneath our feet.
Poor mansion for so fair a guest,
Yet here she sweetly takes her rest.
Cold is the bed, and dark the room,
Yet angels watch about the tomb.
Pleas'd they patrol, nor sleep nor faint,
They only watch a sister saint.
'Till the loud music of the skies,
Relieves her guards, and bids her rise.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Delivering Poems Around The World
Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...
4/26/2024 9:46:46 AM # 1.0.0.1119
