Enough: and leave the rest to Fame. <br />'Tis to commend her but to name. <br />Courtship, which living she declin'd, <br />When dead to offer were unkind. <br />Where never any could speak ill, <br />Who would officious Praises spill? <br />Nor can the truest Wit or Friend, <br />Without Detracting, her commend. <br />To say she liv'd a Virgin chast, <br />In this Age loose and all unlac't; <br />Nor was, when Vice is so allow'd, <br />Of Virtue or asham'd, or proud; <br />That her Soul was on Heaven so bent <br />No Minute but it came and went; <br />That ready her last Debt to pay <br />She summ'd her Life up ev'ry day; <br />Modest as Morn; as Mid-day bright; <br />Gentle as Ev'ning; cool as Night; <br />'Tis true: but all so weakly said; <br />'Twere more Significant, She's Dead.<br /><br />Andrew Marvell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-epitaph-upon/
