DENIED upon thy sacred urn to mourn,
To breathe the sigh, or pour affection’s tear,
Alas! from earthly ties thy spirit’s torn,
Nor Sorrow soothes her griefs upon thy bier.
Yet Fancy ever haunts each distant scene,
Treads the lone aisle, and bends upon thy grave;
While pitying angels weep thy fate unseen,
And flowers immortal all around it wave.
The virtues which thy living form enshrined,
That breathed so sweet, with such unfading bloom,
By heaven exchanged, shall with thy name be twined,
And shed their hallowed odours o’er thy tomb.
(Mrs. Walter Spencer)
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