Thoughts Occasioned By The Death Of An Amiable Youth, While His Friends Were Met To Celebrate His Birth-Day.

THOUGHTS OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF AN AMIABLE YOUTH,

WHILE HIS FRIENDS WERE MET TO CELEBRATE HIS BIRTH-DAY.

A LOVELY plant a garden grac'd, 'Twas call'd the village pride; For poor seem'd many a goodly flow'r, While blowing by its side.

With festive mirth and heart-felt joy, The village swains resort, And yearly, as it fresher blew, They held a rural sport.

The Sun had eighteen circles run, It blew more bright and fair; They met, admir'd the Former's skill, And pray'd his future care.

Gracious he stoop'd to view his work, View'd it with pitying eyes; To save it from the storms, he said, Transplant it to the skies.