Classic Poem

This stone, how poor a record to transmit
The charms of beauty, and the boast of wit!
How often flatter'd, by the weak, and wise,
Her snowy bosom, and her sparkling eyes!—
That bosom's whiteness shall be prais'd no more,
Nor flatt'ry lustre to those eyes restore.
Approach all you, who charms superior share,
Idols of men! and envy of the fair!
Approach with awe, and learn this solemn truth,
Death shews how vain are beauty wit, and youth!
He triumphs over ev'ry blooming charm;
But innocence, and virtue, death disarm.