Where Once My Careless Childhood Strayed, /

Nor Grandeur Hear With A Disdainful Smile The Short And Simple Annals Of The Poor.

E'en From The Tomb The Voice Of Nature Cries, E'en In Our Ashes Live Their Wonted Fires.

What Female Heart Can Gold Despise? What Cat 's Averse To Fish?

Can Storied Urn, Or Animated Bust Back To Its Mansion Call The Fleeting Breath? Can Honour's Voice Provoke The Silent Dust, Or Flatt'ry Soothe The Dull Cold Ear Of Death?

Alas, Regardless Of Their Doom, The Little Victims Play! No Sense Have They Of Ills To Come Nor Care Beyond Today.