Epitaph by a Young Lady, Design'd by Herself, An

1

ALL you that view this humble stone
And ask who lies beneath,
Know then; the friend of every one
That vital air doth breath.

2

What tho' no airy pompous sound,
My humble tomb adorn,
Lov'd friends with grief that tomb surround
And their Lucinda mourn.

3

What tho' the path of life I trod,
Was rugged and uneven,
It serv'd to keep me near to God,
And brought me safe to heav'n.

4

Peculiar was my fate while here,
But to that fate resign'd:
I'm now releas'd from every care
By the eternal mind.
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