On an Infant's Grave
John Clare
1793 to 1864
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Beneath the sod where smiling creep
The daisies into view,
The ashes of an Infant sleep,
Whose soul’s as too;
Ah! doubly happy, doubly blest,
(Had I so been!)
Recall’d to heaven’s eternal rest,
Ere it how to sin.
Thrice happy Infant! great the bliss
reserv’d for thee;
Such joy ’twas my sad fate miss,
And thy good luck to see;
For oh! all must rise again,
And sentence then shall have,
crowds will wish with me, in vain,
They’d fill’d infant’s grave.