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In the cloisters at Worcester is a simple gravestone, inscribed with the one word

which has long and fruitlessly proved a study for antiquarians.

I cannot conclude with a more beautiful Epitaph than the recent one to Alice Evelyn, daughter of Martin F. Tupper.


 * Sweet child, to fall asleep!
 * Ere yet thy bud had shewn its flower,
 * Or morning dews had ceased to shower;—
 * But in repose how deep
 * Thou calmly liest, on thy infant bed!
 * Were all the dead like thee, how lovely were the dead!


 * Ere day was well begun,
 * In what brief span of time
 * Thy living course and work were done:
 * Thou saw'st no night, nor even noon,
 * But only morning's prime;
 * Smiling thou sleepest now, but hadst thou found
 * A longer life, tears might those smiles have drown'd.