Epitaph for Maria Wentworth
And here the precious dust is laid;
Whose purely-temper'd clay was made
So fine that it the guest betray'd.
Else the soul grew so fast within,
It broke the outward shell of sin,
And so was hatch'd a cherubin.
In height, it soar'd to God above;
In depth, it did to knowledge move,
And spread in breadth to general love.
Before, a pious duty shin'd
To parents, courtesy behind;
On either side an equal mind.
Good to the poor, to kindred dear,
To servants kind, to friendship clear,
To nothing but herself severe.
So, though a virgin, yet a bride
To ev'ry grace, she justified
A chaste polygamy, and died.
Learn from hence, reader, what small trust
We owe this world, where virtue must,
Frail as our flesh, crumble to dust.
Thomas Carew's Other Poems
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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