I’ll seek him there; I know ere this The cold, cold earth doth shake him; But I will go, or send a kiss By you, sir, to awake him. Pray hurt him not; though he be dead, He knows well who do love him, And who with green turfs rear his head, And who do rudely move him. He’s soft and tender (pray take heed); With bands of cowslips bind him, And bring him home--but ’tis decreed That I shall never find him! _269._ _Comfort to a Youth that had lost his Love_ What needs complaints, When she a place Has with the race Of saints? In endless mirth She thinks not on What’s said or done In Earth. She sees no tears, Or any tone Of thy deep groan She hears: Nor does she mind Or think on’t now That ever thou Wast kind; But changed above, She likes not there, As she did here, Thy love. Forbear therefore, And lull asleep Thy woes, and weep No more. _270._ _To Meadows_ Ye have been fresh and green, Ye have been fill’d with flowers, And ye the walks have been Where maids have spent their hours. You have beheld how they With wicker arks did come To kiss and bear away The richer cowslips home. You’ve heard them sweetly sing, And seen them in a round: Each virgin like a spring, With honeysuckles crown’d. But now we see none here Whose silv’ry feet did tread And with dishevell’d hair Adorn’d this smoother mead. Like unthrifts, having spent Your stock and needy grown, You’re left here to lament Your poor estates, alone. _271._ _A Child’s Grace_ Here a little child I stand Heaving up my either hand; Cold as paddocks though they be, Here I lift them up to Thee, For a benison to fall On our meat and on us all. Amen. _271._ paddocks] frogs. _272._ _Epitaph_ _upon a Child that died_ Here she lies, a pretty bud, Lately made of flesh and blood: Who as soon fell fast asleep As her little eyes did peep. Give her strewings, but not stir The earth that lightly covers her. _273._ _Another_ Here a pretty baby lies Sung asleep with lullabies: Pray be silent and not stir Th’ easy earth that covers her. _274._ _His Winding-sheet_