15Some tender-harted mother good and mild,
Who on the deare grave of her tender child
So many sad teares hath beene knowne to rayne
As out of dust would mould him up againe,
And with hir plaintes enforce the wormes to place
20Themselves like veynes so neatly on his face,
And every lymne, as if that they wer striving
To flatter hir with hope of his reviving:
Shee should read this, and hir true teares alone
Should coppy forth these sad lines on the stone