By a Tradesman in the vicinity.
The sexton tolls the knell till parting day,
The latest funeral train has paid its fee,
The mourners homeward take their dreary way
And leave the scene to Typhus and to me.
Now fades the crowded graveyard on the sight,
But all, its air who scent, their nostrils hold,
Save where the beadle drones, contented quite,
And drowsy mutes their arms in slumber fold.
Save where, hard by yon soot-incrusted tower,