On My First Daughter
By Ben Jonson
Here lies to each her parents Ruth,
Mary, the daughter of their youth:
Yet, all heavens gifts, being heavens due,
It makes the father, less, to rue.
At six months end, she parted hence
With safety of her innocence;
Whose soul heavens queen, (whose name she bears)
In comfort of her mothers tears,
Hath placed amongst her virgin train:
Where, while that severed doth remain,
This grave partakes the fleshly birth.
Which cover lightly, gentle earth.