Here you will find the Poem An Epitaph on Niobe turned to Stone of poet Henry King
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.
