Robert Blair

But if there be an hereafter,
And that there is, conscience, uninfluenc'd
And suffer'd to speak out, read more

But if there be an hereafter,
And that there is, conscience, uninfluenc'd
And suffer'd to speak out, tells every man,
Then must it be an awful thing to die;
More horrid yet to die by one's own hand.

The common damn'd shun their society.

The common damn'd shun their society.

Careless, unsocial plant! that loves to dwell
'Midst skulls and coffins, epitaphs and worms:
Where light-heel'd ghosts read more

Careless, unsocial plant! that loves to dwell
'Midst skulls and coffins, epitaphs and worms:
Where light-heel'd ghosts and visionary shades,
Beneath the wan, cold Moon (as Fame reports)
Embodied, thick, perform their mystic rounds
No other merriment, dull tree! is thine.

The good he scorned
Stalked off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost,
Not to return; or if it read more

The good he scorned
Stalked off reluctant, like an ill-used ghost,
Not to return; or if it did, in visits
Like those of angels, short and far between.

See yonder maker of the dead man's bed,
The sexton, hoary-headed chronicle,
Of hard, unmeaning face, down read more

See yonder maker of the dead man's bed,
The sexton, hoary-headed chronicle,
Of hard, unmeaning face, down which ne'er stole
A gentle tear.