Dark-green and gemm'd with flowers of snow, With close uncrowded branches spread Not proudly high, nor meanly low, A graceful myrtle rear'd its head.

The Dead are like the stars by day; Withdrawn from mortal eye, But not extinct, they hold their way In glory through the sky.

Time is eternity begun.

Eternity: a moment standing still for ever.

Bliss in possession will not last; Remembered joys are never past.

Here hyacinths of heavenly blue, shook their rich tresses to the morn.

While rose-buds scarcely show'd their hue, But coyly linger'd on the thorn.