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Written by an amateur, who wished to remain anonymous.

Lyrics: R.M. esq.

All cold beneath this narrow heap,
Wren's angel charms in silence sleep;
And here the ties of virtue end,
The tender mother, wife and friend.

For her each gentle bosom grieves;
'Tis not the turf alone that heaves!
Pity and love their loss deplore;
Their fav'rite child can feel no more.

Anon
(c.1785)

Epitaph on Mrs Wren

(T.T.B.)

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