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SONNET XIII.
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13

SONNET XIII.

On being censured for collecting Epitaphs.

By marble cenotaph, or grassy mound,
The lay funereal studious to explore,
As slow I traverse thro' the church-yard's bound,
Or mid the chancel's ancient relics pore,
And add some ‘frail memorial’ to my store
Ere yet in pensiveness I quit the ground;
Not idle deem the monitory lore,
Which from the page of fate I gather round:
For he who frequent marks Life's final goal,
May learn to estimate its course more true,
May bid his thought the high career pursue,
Where years eternal their dread courses roll,
And Truth decrees an amaranthine prize
For him who wins on earth to wear amid the skies.