EVENING REFLECTIONS.

While musing upon many a change, Reflecting thought inclines Present ideas, to arrange In these few simple lines; Which unremember’d will decay, No higher is their aim,— The liker to their author they, Who’ll shortly do the same. But why one sigh at being forgot?— A maid more fair and gay Perhaps has trode this peaceful spot, Whose very name’s away:— Who in this lower world did share, Like me, its joy and grief; But from misfortune, pain, and care, Hath lung since found relief. Let fancy for a moment wait, To view that fair unknown; More early she, and I more late, Have wander’d here alone. What! though imagination paints Her but of mean estate; Her views when humble, few her wants, Nor wishing to be great. Why such a wish? for now her bones As peacefully do rest As theirs, who once fill’d regal thrones, Or Indian mines possess’d. Perfection in this lower state, ’Bove mortal reach we see, But serious minds, humane, and sweet, Are found in each degree. And wheresoever these appear, In high or low, they still A heavenly origin declare, And shine most beautiful. Shine, not with ostentation’s blaze, Th’ applauding eye to lure; Their actions court not empty praise, But flow from motives pure. This conduct is a scene of peace, Free from discordant noise; And such a character might grace The sister of my choice. Though nat’rally to sadness bent, Yet soft, sedate, and mild: She with the mourful did lament— She with the cheerful smil’d. Such meek and placid innocence, Pure seraphs would respect; But ’mong this globe’s inhabitants, It only found neglect. Not mention’d by the mouth of fame, Nor by reproach assail’d; From both, her inoffensive frame, The grave completely veil’d. Ah! friendly fair! whose dust so small, With mine may soon be mix’d: She’s only fall’n, and I must fall— The sure decree is fix’d. Since life’s so short, and death so sure; So transient every joy: Let us that real good secure, Which death cannot destroy.