alexander pope a ait bir şiirdir.
may one kind grave unite each hapless name,
and graft my love immortal on thy fame!
then, ages hence, when all my woes are o'er,
when this rebellious heart shall beat no more;
ıf ever chance two wand'ring lovers brings
to paraclete's white walls and silver springs,
o'er the pale marble shall they join their heads,
and drink the falling tears each other sheds;
then sadly say, with mutual pity mov'd,
"oh may we never love as these have lov'd!"