Epitaph on an Infant

Samuel Taylor Coleridge(1772–1834)

1811

Its balmy lips the Infant blestRelaxing from its Mother's breast,How sweet it heaves the happy sighOf innocent Satiety!

And such my Infant's latest sigh!O tell, rude stone! the passer by,That here the pretty babe doth lie,Death sang to sleep with Lullaby.

From Sibylline Leaves (1817), via the English Wikisource transcription.

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