O woe, woe, People are born and die, We also shall be dead pretty soon Therefore let us act as if we were dead already. The bird sits on the hawthorn tree But he dies also, presently. Some lads get hung, and some get shot. Woeful is this human lot. @3Woe! woe, etcetera@1. . . . London is a woeful place, Shropshire is much pleasanter. Then let us smile a little space Upon fond nature's morbid grace. @3Oh, Woe, woe, woe, etcetera@1. . . . | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HIS LADY'S HAND by THOMAS WYATT THE MASK by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE ICE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON IMPRESSION by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE THE SLAVE SINGING AT MIDNIGHT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW CREDO by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON |