To A Friend, On The Loss Of An Amiable Daughter Poem by Christopher Anstey

True, she was sweet, and lovely in thine eyes,
Like some fair flower that blooms awhile, and dies:
Yet O forbear thy heart--felt pangs to shew
In outward pageantry, and pomp of woe:
Say, shouldst thou bid the Parian marble rise,
To tell where innocence and beauty lies,
Aught could it sooth His grief, ill--fated youth!
To whose fond vows she pledg'd her virgin truth?
Thy generous boon to him best serves to prove
Thy manly sorrow, and paternal love,
Firmer than polish'd brass, or sculptur'd stone
Shall long preserve her Memory, and thine own