Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 2, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/173

165 A POET's EPITAPH.

Art thou a Statesman, in the van

Of public business train'd and bred,

—First learn to love one living man;

Then may'st thou think upon the dead.

A Lawyer art thou?—draw not nigh;

Go, carry to some other place

The hardness of thy coward eye,

The falshood of thy sallow face.

Art thou a man of purple cheer?

A rosy man, right plump to see?

Approach; yet Doctor, not too near:

This grave no cushion is for thee.