Dearliest

Even thoſe whom we loved dearlieſt, we avoid once dead; now we lay them aſide under the board, and thence ſend them out of our houſes to their grave.

But you, O thrice ingenuous Queriſt, / Whom we by Sympathy love dearlieſt, / You are inſpir’d, there’s no doubt of ye / With Beef-Broth ſtrong, and potent Coffee!

All past and present losses shrink / In that sad blow comprest, / Those we last loved, we seem to love / The dearliest and the best.

Land of us all that have loved thee dearliest, / Mother of men that were lords of man, / Whose name in the world’s heart works as a spell, / My last song’s light, and the star of mine earliest, / As we turn from thee, sweet, who wast ours for a span, / Fare well we may not who say farewell.