Page:Grave, a poem, or, A view of life, death and immortality.pdf/6

 Sweetner of life, and ſolder of society; I owe thee much.—— Thou hast deserv'd from me Far, far beyond what I can ever pay. Oft have l prov'd the labours of thy love. And the warm efforts of the gentle heart, Anxious to please.—— Oh! when my friend and I In some thick wood have wander'd heedleſs on, Hid from the vulgar eye, and ſat us down Upon the ſloping coſslip cover'd bank, Where the pure limpid ſtream has ſlid along in grateful motion thro' the underwood, (Thruſh Sweet-murmuring:—— Methought the ſhrill-tongu'd Mended his ſong of love the ſooty Blackbird Mellow'd his pipe, and ſoften ev'ry note: The Eglantine ſmell'd ſweeter, and the Roſe Aſſum'd a dye more deep; whilſt ev'ry flower Vy'd with is fellow-plant in luxury Of dreſs ——Oh! then, the longeſt ſummer's day Seem'd too, too much in haſte ——ſtill the full heart Had not imparted half ——'Twas happineſs Too exquiſite to laſt - Of joys departed Not to return. ——How painful the remembrance! (blood;

Grave-thou ſpoil'ſt the dance of youthful Strik'ſt out the dimple from the check of Mirth, And ev'ry ſmirking feature from the face; Branding our laughter with the name of madneſs. Where are the jeſters now? ——the men of health, Complexionally pleaſant? ——Where the droll, Whoſe ev'ry lock and jeſturegesture [sic] was a joke To clapping theatres and ſhouting crouds, And made even thick-lip'd muſing melancholy To gather up her face into a ſmile Before ſhe was aware? ——Ah! ſullen now, And dumb, as the green turf that covers them.