An Epitaph on Niobe turned to Stone
This Pile thou seest built out of Flesh, not Stone,
Contains no shroud within, nor mouldring bone:
This bloodless Trunk is destitute of Tombe
Which may the Soul-fled Mansion enwombe.
This seeming Sepulchre (to tell the troth)
Is neither Tomb nor Body, and yet both.
poem by Henry King
Added by Poetry Lover
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