 | Poems (1905) |  |
[ON THE DEATH OF WILLIAM SPRINGALL LEVETT.]
[1774.]
What though no trophies peer above his dust,
Nor sculptured conquests deck his sober bust;
What though no earthly thunders sound his name,
Death gives him conquest, and our sorrows fame:
One sigh reflection heaves, but shuns excess—
More should we mourn him, did we love him less.
| Poems (1905) | |