Bewail not much, my parents! me, the prey
Of ruthless Ades, and sepulchred here.
An infant, in my fifth scarce finish'd year,
He found all sportive, innocent, and gay,
Your young Callimachus; and if I knew
Not many joys, my griefs were also few.
On An Infant (from The Greek)
William Cowper
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Poem topics: innocent, young, year, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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