And here the precious dust is laid; Whose purely temper'd Clay was made So fine, that it the guest betray'd. Else the soule grew so fast within, It broke the outward shell of sinne, And so was hatch'd a Cherubin. In heigth, it soar'd to God above; In depth, it did to knowledge move, And spread in breadth to generall love. Before, a pious duty shind To Parents, courtesie behind, On either side an equall mind, Good to the Poore, to kindred deare, To servants kind, to friendship cleare, To nothing but her selfe, severe. So though a Virgin, yet a Bride To every Grace, she justifi'd A chaste Poligamie, and dy'd. Learne from hence (Reader) what small trust We owe this world, where vertue must Fraile as our flesh, crumble to dust. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HER LETTER by FRANCIS BRET HARTE SPIRIT WHOSE WORK IS DONE (WASHINGTON CITY, 1865) by WALT WHITMAN THE COMMONPLACE by WALT WHITMAN LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 9. GOING TO THE FAIR by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE LONE BUTTE by EVA K. ANGLESBURG THE DAYS OF '84 by RANDOLPH BEDFORD DEEDS UNDONE by GAMALIEL BRADFORD |