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! Be thou never grac'd with birds that sing, Nor Flora's pride! In thee all flowers and roses spring, Mine only died.

this sable herse Lies the subject of all verse: Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother: Death, ere thou hast slain another, Fair and learn'd, and good as she, Time shall throw a dart at thee.

Marble piles let no man raise To her name: for after days Some kind woman born as she, Reading this, like Niobe Shall turn marble, and become Both her mourner and her tomb.