On the margin of Honington Green.

8

Her Parents with Plenty were blest,
And nume'rous her Children, and young,
Youth's Blossoms her cheek yet possest,
And Melody woke when she sung:
A Widow so youthful to leave,
(Early clos'd the blest days he had seen)
My Father was laid in his grave,
In the Church-yard on Honington Green.

9

I faintly remember the Man,
Who died when I was but a Child;
But far as my young mind could scan,
His manners were gentle and mild:
He won infant ears with his lore,
Nor let young ideas run wild,
Tho' his hand the severe rod of pow'r
Never sway'd o'er a trembling Child.

10

Not anxiously careful for pelf,
Melancholic and thoughtful, his mind
Look'd inward and dwelt on itself,
Still pensive, pathetic, and kind;