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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WHEN I DIE, by GUSTAV FALKE First Line: Upon my forehead lay your crimson roses Last Line: As summer nights on ripened harvests sink. | |||
Upon my forehead lay your crimson roses-- In festive garment from you I would go! The windows open till the light reposes Upon my bed--the starlight's smiling glow. And music! While your songs are still enthralling, And one by one the parting cup you drink, Then I would have my curtain slowly falling, As summer nights on ripened harvests sink. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE EXECUTIVE by DAVID IGNATOW SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 14 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING EURIPIDES by ALEXANDER AETOLUS HERMOTIMUS by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN A DAY REMORSEFUL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN FOR THOSE GROWING OLD by WINIFRED ADAMS BURR |
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