Lines Written in an Album, at Malta

As o'er the cold sepulchral stone

Some _name_ arrests the passer-by;

Thus, when thou view'st this page alone,

May _mine_ attract thy pensive eye!

And when by thee that name is read,

Perchance in some succeeding year,

Reflect on _me_ as on the _dead_,

And think my _Heart_ is buried _here_.