Richard Hovey

To a Friend

ALL too grotesque our thoughts are sometimes. Odd,
That there will come a day when you and I
Shall not be you and I! that we shall lie—
We two—i' the damp earth-mould—above each clod
A drunken headstone in the neglected sod—
Thereon the phrase, "Hic Jacet," carved awry,
And then our virtues, Bah! and piety—
Perhaps some cheeky reference to God!
And haply after many a century
Some spectacled old man shall drive the birds
A moment from their song i' the lonely spot
And make a copy of the quaint old words—
They will then be quaint and old—and all for what?
To fill a gap in a genealogy.