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_.