A Mother's Lament by Robert Burns

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 fear'd thy fatal blow, Now, fond, I bare my breast, Oh, do thou kindly lay me low With him I love, at rest! hartistry david hart w213243 poetry robert burns ... hartistry david hart w213243 poetry robert burns Mother's Lament by Robert ...
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