LINES
WRITTEN AT THE GRAVE OF A FRIEND.
It is a lovely spot they chose,
This green and grassy dell!
And here in death's long, last repose,
Eudora now sleeps well:
Escaped from all her mortal pain,
She sleeps—and will not wake again.
Oh! who that knew her can forget
That highly polished mind?
Those charms that Love must cherish yet,
In that fair form enshrined?
And that warm heart that felt the flame
Of friendship—worthy of the name?
Yes, she was one of those—the few—
That decorate the earth;
A diamond of the purest dew;
Nor knew I half its worth
Till death had stolen the precious gem
That would have graced a diadem.
But why am I lamenting here,
When she is now at rest;
And, happy in her heavenly sphere,
Her soul is with the blest?
No, no, I will not, will not weep:
Enjoy, sweet saint, thy sacred sleep.
* *
Norfolk.