The Sun, XVII

Alas! grim Death, at Westonbury Hall, Had number’d two, upon his dismal roll; And where the uncle, and the aunt, was laid Th’ unconscious sheep reposed upon the blade: And there the village children came to play To while the intervals of school away. Whilst recent mourners, from a distance come, Pass slowly onwards to the silent tomb: * * * And there the tattlers of the neigh’rhood hie, Inventing falsehoods for the village cry: There, country swains and damsels meet and weep, Or laugh, away the moments prior to sleep,— Make love,—unthoughtful that the sacred sod, On which they stand or sit belongs to God!