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    A Mother's Lament

    by Robert Burns
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    ["The Mother's Lament," says the poet, in a copy of the verses now
    before me, "was composed partly with a view to Mrs. Fergusson of
    Craigdarroch, and partly to the worthy patroness of my early unknown
    muse, Mrs. Stewart, of Afton."]

    Fate gave the word, the arrow sped,
    And pierc'd my darling's heart;
    And with him all the joys are fled
    Life can to me impart.
    By cruel hands the sapling drops,
    In dust dishonour'd laid:
    So fell the pride of all my hopes,
    My age's future shade.

    The mother-linnet in the brake
    Bewails her ravish'd young;
    So I, for my lost darling's sake,
    Lament the live day long.
    Death, oft I've fear'd thy fatal blow,
    Now, fond I bare my breast,
    O, do thou kindly lay me low
    With him I love, at rest!
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