Sing, bird of grief! still eve descending,
And soothe a mind with sorrow rending;
Ne'er may I see the blush of morrow,
But close this night the sigh of sorrow;
Then, if some wand'rer here directed
Shall find my mossy grave neglected,
May he replace the weed that's growing
With the nearest flow'r that's blowing!
Lines To The Tune Of "Oh! Lady Fair! Where Art Thou Going?"
John Carr
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