Classic Poem

WRITTEN IN THE CHURCH-YARD OF RUNCORN, IN CHESHIRE .

This is a spot to musing Grief how dear!
Where unobserved, she may pour forth her plaint, —
Under on pleasures past without restraint —
And breathe the sigh — " fools should not overhear."
Much do I love, alone, to linger here,
What time the glow of summer's evening beam
Brightens the landscape round, and Mersey's stream
Sleeps in the mellow light. — Sometimes a tear
Of wild regret will steal into mine eye,
As musing 'mid these mansions of the dead,
The sweet remembrances of years gone by —
Of joys departed — hopes for ever fled —
Come crowding on my mind; nor would I stem,
For all the wealth of worlds, that woe's luxuriant gem!