 | Poems |  |
TO A PET LAMB,
Lamenting the death of its mate.
Poor little lamb! thy plaintive cry
Would gather tear-drops in my eye,
And raise the sympathetic sigh;
And for thy grief
All soothing remedies I'll try
For its relief.
Would gather tear-drops in my eye,
And raise the sympathetic sigh;
And for thy grief
All soothing remedies I'll try
For its relief.
You mourn a little playmate dear,
And call, its answering bleat to hear;
But cold and heavy is its ear—
Silent for aye;
No longer will it gambol near
To join thy play.
And call, its answering bleat to hear;
But cold and heavy is its ear—
Silent for aye;
No longer will it gambol near
To join thy play.
I miss the little woolly sheep!
I loved to see it frisk and leap,
And o'er the verdant pasture sweep
Its sportive round,
Or in its antics climb the steep
With airy bound.
I loved to see it frisk and leap,
And o'er the verdant pasture sweep
Its sportive round,
Or in its antics climb the steep
With airy bound.
But 't is more I pity thee, lone one,
To hear thy mournful lamentation!
Thy grief seems past alleviation,
Poor little beast!
But Time will bring thee palliation,
In part, at least.
To hear thy mournful lamentation!
Thy grief seems past alleviation,
Poor little beast!
But Time will bring thee palliation,
In part, at least.
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For thus it is with man, we know.
He sees his fellow-mortal go,
Perhaps a boon companion, too—
And weeps awhile;
But when Time's hand has healed the blow
He learns to smile.
He sees his fellow-mortal go,
Perhaps a boon companion, too—
And weeps awhile;
But when Time's hand has healed the blow
He learns to smile.
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