EPITAPH
O
Lovely
woman
,
dearer
of
thy
kind
,
On
whom
thy
fond
remembrance
loves
to
dwell
,
No
poet's
pen
can
ever
paint
thy
mind
,
Nor
tongue
of
mortal
born
thy
praises
tell
.
Engrav'd
on
my
fond
heart
thy
image
lies
,
I've
seen
thee
brighter
than
the
rising
sun
,
When
from
his
chambers
in
the
orient
skies
,
In
radiant
splendor
,
he
his
course
begun
.
Purer
and
calm
as
looks
the
closing
day
,
When
every
angry
element
does
cease
;
Smiling
in
death
,
my
best
example
lay
,
And
sought
the
regions
of
eternal
peace
.
Yet
boding
tears
bedew'd
her
faded
cheek
,
Two
weeping
orphans
standing
by
her
bed
;
She
look'd
their
future
fate
,
but
could
not
speak
,
For
death's
cold
hand
lay
on
her
beauteous
head
.