EPITAPH





_ON A YOUNG LADY WHO DESIRED THAT TOBACCO MIGHT BE PLANTED OVER HER

GRAVE._





Let no cold marble o'er my body rise--

But only earth above, and sunny skies.

Thus would I lowly lie in peaceful rest,

Nursing the Herb Divine from out my breast.

Green let it grow above this clay of mine,

Deriving strength from strength that I resign.

So in the days to come, when I'm beyond

This fickle life, will come my lovers fond,

And gazing on the plant, their grief restrain

In whispering, "Lo! dear Anna blooms again!"





ENVOI. GEORDIE TO HIS TOBACCO-PIPE. facebooktwittergoogle_plusredditpinterestlinkedinmail

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