Classic Poem

But never more shall I behold those Eyes!
Cold as the Grave, alas, my Fav'rite lies:
No more will she amongst her Fellows play,
And with her mimick Sports, chace my dull Thoughts away.
No more must she — —
But hold fond Maid! left Passion still deceive,
For when her Actions I review,
I vow! I could almost believe
The Metempsychosis is true.
Then Grief farewel! adieu these childish Tears,
But oh! a long Farewel, to thee
Thou dear Companion of my tender Years:
Thy Name shall still survive, altho' thou'rt dead,
And this Inscription on thy Tomb be read.

Here lies fair Jill, in whom we daily view'd
The genrous Proofs of noble Gratitude.