FOR

WHO, TO DUMB

FORGETFULNESS

A PREY,

LEFT

THE WARM

THIS PLEASING ANXIOUS BEING E'ER RESIGN'D,
PRECINCTS OF THE CHEERFUL DAY,
NOR CAST ONE LONGING LING RING LOOK BEHIND?

ON SOME FOND BREAST THE PARTING SOUL RELIES, SOME PIOUS DROPS THE CLOSING EYE REQUIRES; E'EN FROM THE TOMB THE VOICE OF NATURE CRIES, E'EN IN OUR ASHES

LIVE THEIR WONTED FIRES.

FOR THEE, WHO, MINDFUL

OF TH' UNHONOUR'D DEAD,

DOST IN THESE LINES THEIR ARTLESS TALE RELATE; IF CHANCE, BY LONELY CONTEMPLATION LED,

SOME

KINDRED SPIRIT SHALL ENQUIRE THY FATE,