MEMENTO MORI.

Inscribed on a Tombstone.

When you look on my grave,

And behold how they wave,

The cypress, the yew, and the willow,

You think 'tis the breeze

That gives motion to these—

'Tis the laughter that's shaking my pillow.

I must laugh when I see

A poor insect like thee

Dare to pity the fate thou must own;

Let a few moments slide,

We shall lie side by side,

And crumble to dust, bone for bone.

Go, weep thine own doom,

Thou wert born for the tomb—

Thou hast lived, like myself, but to die;

Whilst thou pity'st my lot,

Secure fool, thou'st forgot

Thou art no more immortal than I!