Classic Poem

F AENIUS doth own the meadows there
Beside the watered plain,
The little plot and garden fair
That border your domain,
And here his daughter's ashes lie
Beneath a hallowed stone,
Her name thereon: Ah, fain were he
That there were writ his own.
'Twere juster if an aged sire
Had crossed the Stygian wave.
Since fate denied him his desire,
He lives to tend her grave.