Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy; <br /> My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy. <br />Seven years thou'wert lent to me, and I thee pay, <br /> Exacted by thy fate, on the just day. <br />O, could I lose all father now! For why <br /> Will man lament the state he should envy? <br />To have so soon 'scap'd world's and flesh's rage, <br /> And, if no other misery, yet age? <br />Rest in soft peace, and, ask'd, say here doth lie <br /> Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry. <br />For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such, <br /> As what he loves may never like too much.<br /><br />Ben Jonson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-my-first-son/
