Here, alone, before thine eyes, From weakness, now, and pain defended, Look but at the gardener's pride, By the heart of Man, his tears, By his hopes and by his fears, Of a far superior garden. Thus then, each to other dear, Let them all in quiet lie, Andrew there and Susan here, Neighbours in mortality. And should I live through sun and rain Seven widow'd years without my Jane, O Sexton, do not then remove her, Let one grave hold the Lov'd and Lover! ANDREW JONES. I hate that Andrew Jones: he'll breed I said not this, because he loves To whom a foul deed he had done, A friendless Man, a travelling Cripple! For this poor crawling helpless wretch Inch-thick the dust lay on the ground It chanc'd that Andrew pass'd that way Just at the time; and there he found The Cripple in the mid-day heat Standing alone, and at his feet He saw the penny on the ground. . He stopp'd and took the penny up: And so, my Friend, good day to you." And hence I said, that Andrew's boys |