BUT twelve short years you lived, my son, Just twelve short years, and then you died: And now your life's brief course is run, This grave a father's hopes doth hide. (@3G. B. Grundy@1) | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIVER by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE CORAL INSECT by LYDIA HUNTLEY SIGOURNEY THE VIRGINIANS OF THE VALLEY by FRANCIS ORRERY TICKNOR TO A LADY, WITH SOME PAINTED FLOWERS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD IDYLL 6. CLEODAMUS AND MYRSON by BION CHRISTMAS EVE by MATHILDE BLIND THE GLOW-WORM by VINCENT BOURNE TO A.D. UNREASONABLE DISTRUSTFUL OF HER OWN BEAUTY by THOMAS CAREW |