Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
XVI. Crossed Hands and Closed Eyes
Epitaph intended for himself
By James Beattie (1735–1803)
 
ESCAPED the gloom of mortal life, a soul
  Here leaves its mouldering tenement of clay
Safe, where no cares their whelming billows roll,
  No doubts bewilder, and no hopes betray.
 
Like thee I once have stemmed the sea of life,        5
  Like thee have languished after empty joys,
Like thee have laboured in the stormy strife,
  Been grieved for trifles, and amused with toys….
 
Forget my frailties; thou art also frail:
  Forgive my lapses; for thyself may’st fall:        10
Nor read unmoved my artless tender tale—
  I was a friend, O man, to thee, to all.
 
 
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