234. A Motherâ€™s Lament for her Sonâ€™s Death by Robert Burns
FATE gave the word, the arrow sped,
And piercâ€™d my darlingâ€™s heart;
And with him all the joys are fled
Life can to me impart.
By cruel hands the sapling drops,
In dust dishonourâ€™d laid;
So fell the pride of all my hopes,
My ageâ€™s future shade.
The mother-linnet in the brake
Bewails her ravishâ€™d young;
So I, for my lost darlingâ€™s sake,
Lament the live-day long.
Death, oft Iâ€™ve feared thy fatal blow.
Now, fond, I bare my breast;
O, do thou kindly lay me low
With him I love, at rest!