Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy!
Ben Jonson (1572-1637) English playwright and poet
My sin was too much hope of thee, loved boy.
Seven years thou wert lent to me, and I thee pay,
Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.
O, could I lose all father now. For why
Will man lament the state he should envy?
To have soon ‘scaped world’s and flesh’s rage,
And, if no other misery, yet age!
Rest in soft peace, and, asked, say here doth lie
Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry:
For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such,
As what he loves may never like too much.
The Works of Ben Jonson, First Folio, Epigram 45, “On My First Son,” ll. 1-12 (1616)
Added on 19-Mar-13 | Last updated 19-Mar-13
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