Henry Kirke White

Oh! Spirit of the blest, forgive
The mortal tear, the mortal sigh,
Thou knewest what it was to live,
And feel each human agony.

I would not raise thy mould'ring form,
Nor bring thy spirit from above,
Could I a miracle perform,
Much as thy beauteous soul I love.

I do but ask in fervant prayer,
As o'er thy silent Tomb I bend,
That I in heavenly scenes may share
Thy converse, and become thy friend.