 | The Poetry of George Wither |  |
177
4. AN EPITAPH UPON THE RIGHT VIRTUOUS LADY, THE LADY SCOTT.
Let none suppose this relic of the justWas here wrapt up to perish in the dust;
No, like best fruits her time she fully stood,
Then being grown in faith, and ripe in good,
With steadfast hope that she another day
Should rise with Christ, with Death here down she lay.
And that each part which her in life had grac'd
Preserv'd might be, and meet again at last,
The poor, the world, the heavens, and the grave,
Her alms, her praise, her soul, her body have.
| The Poetry of George Wither | |