 | The poetical works (1829) |  |
EPITAPH.
Time and the world, whose magnitude and weightBear on us in this now, and hold us here
To earth inthralled, what are they in the past?
And in the prospect of the immortal soul
How poor a speck! Not here her resting-place;
Her portion is not here: and happiest they
Who, gathering early all that earth can give,
Shake off its mortal coil, and speed for Heaven.
Such fate had he whose relics here repose.
Few were his days; but yet enough to teach
Love, duty, generous feelings, high desires,
Faith, hope, devotion: and what more could length
Of days have brought him! What but vanity?
Joys, frailer even than health or human life;
Temptation; sin and sorrow, both too sure;
Evils that wound, and cares that fret, the heart!
Repine not, therefore, ye who love the dead.
| The poetical works (1829) | |