Poetry

Epitaph On My Father

By BURNS, ROBERT
O ye, whose cheek the tear of pity stains,
Draw near with pious rev'rence, and attend!
Here lie the loving husband's dear remains,
The tender father, and the gen'rous friend;
The pitying heart that felt for human woe,
The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride;
The friend of man -- to vice alone a foe;
For ev'n his failings lean'd to virtue's side.


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