And here the precious dust is laid; <br />Whose purely-temper'd clay was made <br />So fine that it the guest betray'd. <br /> <br />Else the soul grew so fast within, <br />It broke the outward shell of sin, <br />And so was hatch'd a cherubin. <br /> <br />In height, it soar'd to God above; <br />In depth, it did to knowledge move, <br />And spread in breadth to general love. <br /> <br />Before, a pious duty shin'd <br />To parents, courtesy behind; <br />On either side an equal mind. <br /> <br />Good to the poor, to kindred dear, <br />To servants kind, to friendship clear, <br />To nothing but herself severe. <br /> <br />So, though a virgin, yet a bride <br />To ev'ry grace, she justified <br />A chaste polygamy, and died. <br /> <br />Learn from hence, reader, what small trust <br />We owe this world, where virtue must, <br />Frail as our flesh, crumble to dust.<br /><br />Thomas Carew<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/epitaph-for-maria-wentworth/
