" Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes,     
The Parian Statue, bending o'er the Urn,     
The dark robe floating, the dejection worn     
On the dropt eye, and lip no smile illumes;
Not all this pomp of sorrow, that presumes     
It pays Affection's debt, is due concern     
To the FOR EVER ABSENT, tho' it mourn
Fashion's allotted time. If Time consumes,
While Life is ours, the precious vestal-flame     
Memory shou'd hourly feed;—if, thro' each day,     
She with whate'er we see, hear, think, or say,
Blend not the image of the vanish'd Frame,     
O! can the alien Heart expect to prove,
In worlds of light and life, a reunited love! "

― Anna Seward , Original sonnets on various subjects; and odes paraphrased from Horace