But born, and like a short delight,
I glided by my parents' sight.
That done, the harder fates denied
My longer stay, and so I died.
If, pitying my sad parents' tears,
You'll spill a tear or two with theirs,
And with some flowers my grave bestrew,
Love and they'll thank you for't. Adieu.
Upon A Child. An Epitaph.
Robert Herrick
Suggested Poems
Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.