Uploader's Comments

Stop Passenger, and view this mournful shrine
That holds ye Reliques of a Form Divine
Oh she was all perfection, Heavenly Fair
And Chaste and Innocent as vestals are
Her wit and humour and her youth conspired
To warm ye soul, and all who saw admired;
But ah! how soon was all ye Heaven of charms
Rifled by death, and withered in his Arms
Too soon for us but not for her too soon
For now upon ye Wings of Angels flown
Their native skies, she's by her God caressed
And keeps the eternal Sabbath of the Blessed
Learn hence betimes, (good reader) to be wise
This trifling world and all its joys despise
With each bright Virtue let thy bosom swell
And live like her yt you may dye so well