A Selection from the Lyrical Poems of Robert Herrick

238. TO THE LADY CREWE, UPON THE DEATH OF HER CHILD

     Why, Madam, will ye longer weep,
     Whenas your baby's lull'd asleep?
     And, pretty child, feels now no more
     Those pains it lately felt before.

     All now is silent; groans are fled;
     Your child lies still, yet is not dead,
     But rather like a flower hid here,
     To spring again another year.