If by my tomb some day you careless pass,
A moment grieved by coming on my name,
Ah! kneel awhile upon the tender grass
In some short prayer acquitting me of blame.
If I reached not your pinnacle of right,
Or fell below your standard of desire,
If to my heart alone my hopes were white,
And my soul built its own celestial fire,
Then let your grief, be it a single tear,
Upon your cheek in tender sorrow fall,
Forget where I did fail; keep only dear
The deeds for which you loved me over all.
For ah! to hear, poor shade from life shut out,
Unkindly tongues to trifle with my name,
So that remembrance came half-chilled with doubt
In conversations less of praise than blame.
For if thy charity be overstrained
And would bring slander where it cannot bless,
Give me but silence where good friendship waned,
Grant me the mercy of forgetfulness.
