Classic Poem

On Mris. Mary Draper

I

Reader , if thou cast thine eye
On this weeping stone below:
Know, that under it doth lye
One, that never man did know.

II

Yet of all men full well known
By those beauties of her breast:
For, of all shee wanted none,
When Death call'd her to her rest.

III

Then, the Ladies, if they wou'd
Dye like her, kinde Reader, tell,
They must strive to be as good
Alive; or 'tis impossible.