Happiness
14 Feb
2017

Happiness is silent, or speaks equivocally for friends,
Grief is explicit and her song never ends,
Happiness is like England, and will not state a case,
Grief, like Guilt, rushes in and talks apace.

  • Epitaph Upon A Child That Died
    Here she lies, a pretty bud, Lately made of flesh and blood: Who as soon as fell fast asleep As her little eyes did peep. Give her strewings, but not stir The earth that lightly covers her.