A warning to the young.

MY youthful mates, both small and great, Stand here and you shall see; An awful sight which is a type, Of what you soon must be.

I did appear once fresh and fair. Among the youthful crowd; But now behold me dead and cold, Wrapp'd in a sable shroud.

My cheeks once red like roses spread, My sparkling eyes so gay; But now you see how 'tis with me,— A lifeless lump of clay.

When you are dress'd in all your best, In fashion so complete; You soon must be as you see me, Wrapp'd in a winding sheet.

Ah, youth, beware, and do prepare, To meet the monster death; For he may come while you are young, And steal away your breath.

When you unto amusements go, Remember what I say; In a short time though in your prime, You may be call'd away.

When you unto my grave do go, The gloomy place to see; I say to you who stand in view, Prepare to follow me.

Now I am gone I can't return, No more of me you'll see; But it is true that all of you, Must shortly follow me.