Epitaph on an Infant(1811)
Samuel Taylor Coleridge - Non-Music, Poetry (Literature)
Epitaph on an Infant(1811)
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Its balmy lips the infant blest Relaxing from its Mother's breast, How sweet it heaves the happy sigh Of innocent satiety! And such my Infant's latest sigh! Oh tell, rude stone! the passer by, That here the pretty babe doth lie, Death sang to sleep with Lullaby.
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- Samuel Taylor Coleridge