AN EPITAPH.
This shell of stone within it keepeth
One who died not, but sleepeth;
And in her quiet slumber seemeth
As if of heaven alone she dreameth.
Her form it was so fair in seeming,
Her eyes so heavenly in their beaming,
So pure her heart in every feeling,
So high her mind in each revealing,
A band of angels thought that she
Was one of their bright company;
And on some homeward errand driven,
Hurried her too away to Heaven.