TO MISS A—— H——.
Though F——s muse may grief assume,
And teach his plaintive soul to mourn;
No wreath I make for Anna’s tomb,
Nor weep upon her chilly urn.
’Tis not for me to mourn as dead,
The fair whom blooming I survey,
Nor with a turf to grace her head,
Nor change her limbs to mould’ring clay.
Let friendship’s artless voice inspire
My muse to sing in diff’rent strains:
While as a friend I here admire
Her more—than on the Etherial plains.
Far distant may the period be,
When Anna’s form shall lose its bloom;
And F——s frantic verse we see
Sadly inscribed upon her tomb.
ANNA.
The above address was occasioned by the following Epitaph, written by a Clergyman, and presented to the young lady whose tomb it was to adorn.
Reader, if thou are good, and wise, and witty,
Drop on this sable hearse some tears of pity;
For know kind reader, that it is a duty
To the remains of innocence and beauty.