Classic Poem

Let no man walk near this tomb,
That hath left his grief at home.
Here so much of goodness lies,
We should not weep tears, but eyes,
And grope homeward from this stone
Blind for contemplation
How to live and die as he.
Deane, to thy dear memory
With this I would offer more,
Could I be secur'd before
They should not be frown'd upon
At thy resurrection.
Yet accept upon thy herse
My tears far better than my verse.
They may turn to eyes and keep
Thy bed untouch'd whilst thou dost sleep.