  BENEATH the sod where smiling creep The daisies into view, The ashes of an Infant sleep, Whose soul’s as smiling too; Ah! doubly happy, doubly blest, (Had I so happy been!) Recall’d to heaven’s eternal rest, Ere it knew how to sin. Thrice happy Infant! great the bliss Alone reserv’d for thee; Such joy ’twas my sad fate to miss, And thy good luck to see; For oh! when all must rise again, And sentence then shall have, What crowds will wish with me, in vain, They’d fill’d an infant’s grave. |
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