Tombstone
I fondly nursed an opening rose,
And view'd its beauties every day;
But ah! a withering storm arose
And swept my lovely flower away.
More verses by Henry Livingston Jr.
- On My Sister Joanna's Entrance Into Her 33rd Year
- 1819 New Year's Carrier's Address
- A Tenant Of Mrs. Van Kleeck
- Letter Sent To Master Timmy Dwight
- To The Memory Of Sarah Livingston