I saw where in the shroud did lurk
A curious frame of Nature’s work;
A floweret crushd in the bud,
A nameless piece of Babyhood,
Was in her cradle-coffin lying;
Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying:
So soon to exge the imprisoning womb
For darker closets of the tomb!
She did but ope an eye, and put
A clear beam forth, then straight up shut
For the long dark: neer more to see
Through glasses of mortality.
Riddle of destiny, who show
What thy short visit meant, or know
What thy errand here below?
Shall we say that Nature blind
Checkd her hand, and ged her mind,
Just when she had exactly wrought
A finishd pattern without fault?
Could she flag, or could she tire,
Or lackd she the Promethean fire
(With her nine moons long ws sid)
That should thy little limbs have quid?
Limbs so firm, they seemd to assure
Life of health, and days mature:
Womans self in miniature!
Limbs so fair, they might supply
(Themselves now but cold imagery)
The sculptor to make Beau……（内容加载失败！）
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