TURINNA, famed for every grace Of learning and of ancient race, Whom all the virtues did consent With all their gifts to ornament, When thrice nine little years are flown Hath left her parents to bemoan, With bitter tears, the early dead By whom their house is widowed. For nought remains, now she is gone, That love or hope may rest upon. And she hath left her palace home To sleep within the narrow tomb. Yet may her race, or good men feign, Revive from such distress again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET WRITTEN IN THE FALL OF 1914: 4 by GEORGE EDWARD WOODBERRY TO A FATHER, ON THE DEATH OF HIS ONLY CHILD by BERNARD BARTON A PSALM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN ON MY DEAR GRANDCHILD SIMON WHO DIED ... ONE MONTH AND ONE DAY OLD by ANNE BRADSTREET CRIPPLED SOLDIER by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN THE FIRST OF APRIL by EDWARD JAMES MORTIMER COLLINS |