240 Upon a Child
Here a pretty baby lies
Sung asleep with lullabies;
Pray be silent, and not stir
Th’ easy earth that covers her.
241 An Epitaph Upon a Child
Virgins promised when I died,
That they would each primrose-tide
Duly, morn and evening, come,
And with flowers dress my tomb.
—Having promised, pay your debts
Maids, and here strew violets.