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William Lisle Bowles

Dirge for a Young Girl.

NDERNEATH the sod low-lying, Dark and drear, Sleepeth one who left, in dying Sorrow here.

Yes, they're ever bending o'er her Eyes that weep; Forms, that to the cold grave bore her Vigils keep.

When the summer moon is shining Soft and fair, Friends she loved in tears are twining Chaplets there Rest in peace, thou gentle spirit, Throned above- Souls like thine with God inherit Life and love!