CHARLES LAMB
Why human buds, like this, should fall, More brief than fly ephemeral That has his day, while shrivell'd crones Stiffen with age to stocks and stones; And crabbed Ubc the conscience sears In sinners of an hundred years.
Mother's prattle, mother's kiss, Baby fond, thou ne'er wilt miss: Rites, which custom does impose, Silver bells, and baby clothes, Coral redder than those lips Which pale death did late eclipse; Music framed for infants' glee, Whistle never tuned for thec; Though thou want'st not, thou shalt have them, Loving hearts were they which gave them. Let not one be missing, nurse, See them laid upon the hearse Of infant slain by doom perverse. Why should kings and nobles have Pictured trophies to their grave, And we, churls, to thee deny Thy pretty toys with thee to lie A more harmless vanity ?
THOMAS CAMPBELL
1774-18,
590 Ye Mariners of England
YE Mariners of England That guard our native seas! Whose flag has braved a thousand years
The battle and the breeze!
�� �
