Thou should’st not thus venture without an umbrella!
Dost thou wander to the field of graves
Where the elder its spectral branches waves?
And will thy hurried footsteps halt
Where thy mother sleeps in the silent vault?
Where the stranger pauses long to explore
The emblems quaint of heraldic lore,
Where tho’ the lines are tarnished and dim,
Thy mother’s features stare gaunt and grim,
And grinning skull, and transverse bone,