Classic Poem

TO THE MEMORY OF W. COWPER, ESQ.

By hands unseen, to shield his earthy bed,
(Where weeping Virtues o'er his cold turf bend,
And mourn the early doom of their lov'd friend)
Shall sweetest flowers of earliest bloom be spread:
Here shall the village maids and youths repair;
Here shall the kindred soul that loves to grieve,
Still linger o'er his sylvan grave at eve,
And mourn his fate: The red-breast here shall bear
The hoary moss and flowers to deck the clay,
That shields from mouldering dews the poet's breast;
While, pensive wandering through the grass-grown way,
At eve, the kindred Muse, in sable drest,
Breathes her sad dirges o'er his lifeless clay,
And hymns with sainted voice his soul to rest.