The Girl I Left Behind Me/Anna's Urn

by Anonymous

ANNA’S URN.

ENcompaſs’d in an angel’s frame,
An angel’s virtues lay:
Too ſoon did heaven aſſert its claim,
 and call’d its own away,
 and call’d its own away.
My Anna’s worth, my Anna’s charms
 can never more return,
 can never more return,
What then ſhall fill theſe widow’d arms?
 ah me! ah me! ah me!
My Anna’s urn!
Can I forget that bliſs refin’d,
 which bleſt with her I knew?
Our hearts, in ſacred bonds entwin’d,
 were bound by love too true.
That rural train, which once were uſ’d
 in feſtive dance to turn,
So pleas’d, when Anna they amus’d,
 now weeping deck her Urn.
The ſoul eſcaping from its chain,
 ſhe claſp’d me to her breaſt,
To part with thee is all my pain!
 ſhe cry’d! then ſunk to reſt!
While mem’ry ſhall her ſeat retain,
 from beauteous Anna torn,
My heart ſhall breathe its ceaſeleſs ſtrain
 of ſorrow o’er her Urn.
There with the earlieſt dawn, a dove
 laments her murder’d mate.
There Philomela, loſt to love,
 tells the pale moon her fate.
With yew, and ivy round me ſpread,
 my Anna there I’ll mourn
For all my ſoul, now ſhe is dead,
 concentres in her Urn.