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Phillip the sonne of Phillip Vening and of Elizabeth his wife fell asleepe August 10th 1658

Pray deerest friends no more bemoane,
How hope full blossomd Fruit is gone:
In whom the Trees Heart much did lye,
Loosing of him, the Tree would dye:
Infant he was and onely Sonne
Past six yeares tyme whose Glass did run.
Under Age well spent and last Breath,
Ecchos him happy after Death:
No Stone needs hee, no Grave, no Cheast,
Intomb'd who lyes in Mother’s Breast:
Now for his sake, least Friends prove dumbe,
Gravestone heer’s putt for tyme to come.
This spotless soule did constantly aspire
To reach ye place, whence first it tooke his fire:
Whose matchlesse Life, on this unhappy stage
Was such, as to Recount his tender Age:
Would render fabulous, which to prevent
lle silent be, and rest myself content.