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‹‹‹ prev (134) Page 130Page 130On a farmer's gravestone

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(135) Page 131 - To a young clergyman
131
TO A
YOUNG CLERGYMAN,
ON THE DEATH OF HIS MOTHER AND A BRO-
THER, CRUSHED BY THE SUDDEN FALL OF
THEIR DWELLING-HOUSE.
How hard, Lorenzo, is the boon you ask,
And how unequal I to such a task ?
I, whose weak muse, borne down with weight of years,
O'er common griefs might shed some tender tears,
But finds her powers of lamentation fail,
And sinks and sickens at thy doleful tale ?
A Mother ! (ah, the venerable name,
Which my young lips were never taught to frame,)
She, whose warm bowels form'd thy infant span,
Whose tenderest watchings nurs'd thee up to man.
She, earthly image of the highest love,
Which ev'n the yearnings of a God could move I
A Brother, too ! the next congenial tie
Of strongest force in nature's symmetry 1
Thy partner thro' a course of prattling years.
In all youth's fondnesses, and all its fears !

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