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!