Epitaph on a Diamond Digger
Here lies a digger, all his chips departed—
A splint of nature, bright, and ne’er down-hearted:
He worked in many claims, but now (though stumped)
He’s got a claim above that can’t be jumped.
May he turn out a pure and spotless “wight,”
When the Great Judge shall sift the wrong from right,
And may his soul, released from this low Babel,
Be found a gem on God’s great sorting table.
A. Brodrick.
Kimberley, 1875.