Epitaph

Soft as the balm when gentle Zephyr blows, Fair as the morn, and fragrant as the rose; Lovely as crystal or the noon-tide ray, Sweeter than th' lilly or the new mown hay; Matchless in wisdom, excellent in skill, "Sense most refin'd, and wit at her own will." Ever most glad her willing voice to raise To sound her blest, her dear Redeemer's praise. From ev'ry ill her spotless soul was free, Lov'd by all friends, but most ador'd by me. Such were the charms of this angelic maid, 'Till call'd by grace to her e'erlasting shade.

From heartfelt love shall flow a grateful tear, O! beauteous maid I'll e'er weep o'er thy bier.