Author Henry Carey That fatal day, which lent my earliest breath, Gave my dear girl to the cold arms of death: Others in triumph may their birthdays keep; Mine calls aloud for tears, and bids me weep. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments