Anne Bradstreet - In memory of my dear grandchild Elizabeth Bradstreet, who deceased August, 1665, being year and a half old lyrics

farewell, dear babe, my heart's too much content! farewell, sweet babe, the pleasure of mine eye! Farewell, fair flower that for a space was lent, then taken away unto eternity! blest babe, why should I once bewail thy fate, or sigh the days so soon were terminate, since thou art settled in an everlasting state? by nature trees do rot when they are grown, and plums and apples throughly ripe do fall, and corn and gra** are in their season mown, and time brings down what is both strong and tall. but plants new set to be eradicate, and buds new blown to have so short a date, Is by his hand alone that guides nature and fate.