Lines

To the Tune of “Oh! Lady fair! where art thou going?”

Sing, bird of grief! still eve descending, And soothe a mind with sorrow rending; Ne’er may I see the blush of morrow, But close this night the sigh of sorrow;

Then, if some wand’rer here directed Shall find my mossy grave neglected, May he replace the weed that’s growing With the nearest flow’r that’s blowing!