I was a friend, On this sad stone a pious look bestow,
Nor uninstructed read this tale of woe;
And while the sigh of sorrow heaves thy breast,
Let each rebellious murmur be supprest;
Heaven's hidden ways to trace, for us, how vain!
Heaven's wise decrees, how impious, to arraign!
Pure from the stains of a polluted age,
In early bloom of life, they left the stage:
Not doom'd in lingering woe to waste their breath
One moment snatch'd Them from the power of Death:
They liv'd united, and united died;
Happy the friends, whom Death cannot divi
O man, to thee, to all.
Epitaph [to This Grave Is Committed]
James Beattie
(1)
Poem topics: breath, friend, happy, life, power, sad, sorrow, hidden, wise, moment, pure, early, waste, stage, stone, bestow, bloom, death, heaven, united, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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