Mrs. Betsey Dissmore. This one is really touching. You can really feel the bridegroom mourning is wife:
[italic] Sacred to the Memory of
Mrs. Betsey Dissmore,
Consort of
Mr. Thomas Dissmore,
who died Dec. 31, 1828;
aged 25 years 5 mos & 17 days
Betsey; my friend, my love, my bride,
Endeared by ties of grace & nuptials, died
Too soon hath left me here to mourn,
Sad thought! thou my spouse should ner' return
Eternal scenes around thee roll,
Yet joys supreme, ecstatic, fill thy soul,
Death for a season doth divide
In solemn silence, living friend from me my bride,
Say not too soon, for Jesus smil'd,
Say not return He call'd come home my child,
Mourn not for me my race is run;
On death's cold bank I linger'd; Oh how I long
Rejoice with me, rejoice to tell,
Entered the grave in peace, so all farewell. [/italic]
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