EPIGRAMS.
Reading edition
COMPOSED ON READING A DIARY LATELY PUBLISHED.
THAT flesh is grass is now as clear as day, To any but the merest purblind pup; Death cuts it down, and then, to make her hay, My Lady B—— comes and rakes it up.
THE LAST WISH.
When I resign this world so briary, To have across the Styx my ferrying, Oh, may I die without a DIARY! And be interr’d without a BURY-ing!
THE poor dear dead have been laid out in vain, Turn’d into cash, they are laid out again!