228

LINES TO THE DEAD.

Friends! I would crave like boon

When laid within death's vaults;
Speak of me often, though it be

Only to tell my faults:

For better that some hearts be taught

Ev'n of my follies than of nought.

Oh! yes, remember me

In gentleness and love:

Let not the chasm be early filled

That tracks my last remove.

But grant me still that little spot;-
Friends! dearest friends! forget me not.