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ON THE DEATH OF MISS ANN GRANT,OF BIRDSYARDS.
"As those we love decay, we die in part,String after string is sever'd from the heart."
When last we parted, gentlest friend! Thy streaming tears bedew'd my cheek,And sighs, that seem'd thy heart to rend, Confess'd the grief thou could'st not speak;
And when we breath'd a sad adieu, Thou saidst that we should meet no more—Ah! wherefore were thy words so true— We meet not till this life is o'er!
Thine.is the silence of the tomb, And thine that calm and peaceful sleepWhere sorrow cannot pierce its gloom, Nor weary nature wake to weep.
Then should I wish thee ling'ring here, The bitter dregs of life to drain?Ah! no,—I check the gushing tear, And ev'ry selfish wish restrain,
