AN EPITAPH.

All that could suffer change and fade Of one 't were sin to weep, Deep in this narrow bed is laid In everlasting sleep. The grassy turf was never spread Above a gentler breast; O! bitter, bitter tears were shed, When she was laid to rest. Her praise might partial friendship swell With not unseemly pride; But this were vain—enough to tell, She lived, and loved, and died.