Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/307

 But now we see none here Whose silv'ry feet did tread And with dishevell'd hair Adorn'd this smoother mead.

Like unthrifts, having spent Your stock and needy grown, You're left here to lament Your poor estates, alone.

271. A Child's Grace

Here a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall On our meat and on us all. Amen.

271. paddocks] frogs. 272. Epitaph

upon a Child that died

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

273. Another

Here a pretty baby lies Sung asleep with lullabies: Pray be silent and not stir Th' easy earth that covers her.