Epitaph on the Reverend Mr. Wells, Minister of the Gospel

Here lies a flower which death has cropt,
Alas before twas fully blown;
Into earth's easy lap 'tis dropt,
And there the precious seed is sown.

His fragrant scent is left behind,
And in the spring it will appear,
A nobler form it then shall find,
And brighter colours shall for ever wear.
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