Classic Poem

Here lies a true maid, deformed and old,
Who, that she never was handsome, need never be told;
Though she ne'er had a lover, much friendship had met,
And thought all mankind quite out of her debt.
She ne'er could forgive, for she ne'er had resented;
As she ne'er had denied, so she never repented.
She loved the whole species, but some had distinguished;
But time and much thought had all passion extinguished.
Though not fond of her station, content with her lot;
A favour received she had never forgot.
She rejoiced in the good that her neighbours possessed,
And piety, purity, truth she professed.
She lived in much peace, but ne'er courted pleasure;
Her book and her pen had her moments of leisure;
Pleased with life, fond of health, yet fearless of death,
Believing she lost not her soul with her breath.