That blooms with all the pride of May,
Feels the corroding hand of time,
And all unconscious fades away.
SACRED TO THE MEMORY OF
AN AMIABLE YOUNG LADY;
Whose virtues richly merited the eulogium here offered by a friend.
Soft as the balm the gentle gales distils!
Sweet as the fragrancy of new-mown hills!
Her op’ning mind a thousand charms reveal’d,
Proof of those thousands which were yet conceal’d.
The loveliest flower in nature’s garden plac’d!