Classic Poem

Think not, my friend, I wish to check the tear
(The copious tear to anguish gives relief):
May the fair rose to mem'ry still be dear,
And still renew sincere, but gentle grief!
Sweet was its fragrance, in the orient ray,
Its form by nature's curious hand design'd;
The candid blush, how innocently gay!
The lovely index of a god-like mind.
One you have loft—but others claim your care
To guide their foot-steps to unsullied fame;
One glides a cherub thro' the fields of air,
The others fondly lisp their parent's name;
Oh! may your breast its wonted calm resume,
Your prospects brighten, and your beauty bloom.