On my First Son
Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy; My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy. Seven years tho' 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 so soon 'scap'd world's and flesh's rage, And if no other misery, yet age? Rest in soft peace, and, ask'd, 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.
Composition Date:1603.
Form: couplets1.
The boy died of the plague in 1603, the same plague which delayed the coronation ceremonies of James I. child of my right hand: i.e., the Hebrew Benjamin, which meant \
Ben Jonson
Other author posts
III To Sir Robert Wroth
How blest art thou, canst love the countrey, Wroth, Whether by choyce, or fate, or both And, though so neere the Citie, and the Court, Art tane with neithers vice, nor sport: That at great times, art no ambitious guest Of Sheriffes ...
fromWitches Song
The owl is abroad,the bat and the toad, And so is the cat-a mountain, The ant and the mole sit both in a hole, And frog peeps out o'the fountain;
My Picture Left in Scotland
I now think Love is rather deaf than blind, For else it could not be That she, Whom I adore so much, should so slight me And cast my love behind I'm sure my language to her was as sweet, And every close did meet In sentence of as subtle feet,...
Preconception
I have no children: But tonight a poem came in which a small child, my daughter, appeared at the door of a half-lit room where late one night I wrote at a heavy desk And though interruption was hardly welcome I took her to myself, just a...