For Death Betimes Is Comfort, Not Dismay,

My Flowery And Green Age Was Passing Away, And I Feeling A Chill In The Fires Had Been Wasting My Heart, For I Was Drawing Near The Hillside Above The Grave.

I Have Friends Whose Society Is Delightful To Me; They Are Persons Of All Countries And Of All Ages; Distinguished In War, In Council, And In Letters; Easy To Live With, Always At My Command.

How Difficult It Is To Save The Bark Of Reputation From The Rocks Of Ignorance.

Go, Grieving Rimes Of Mine, To That Hard Stone Whereunder Lies My Darling, Lies My Dear, And Cry To Her To Speak From Heaven's Sphere.

A Good Death Does Honour To A Whole Life.