COME, Terror of the wise, and valiant, come, And with a sigh let my griev'd soul have room Amongst the shades; then shall my cares be gone; All there drink Waters of Oblivion. So went the Heroes of the World, and so Or soon, or late, all that are born must go; Thou, Death, to me art welcome as a friend, For thou with life putt'st to my griefs an end. Of this poor earth, and blast of breath allied, How easily by thee the knot's untied: This spring of tears which trickles from mine eyes Is natural, and when I die, it dries. Matter for sighs I drew with my first breath, And now a sigh ushers my soul to death; So cares and griefs determine by consent, This favour owe I to my monument. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BY THE PACIFIC by HERBERT BASHFORD A TRAGIC STORY by ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO THE GARDEN YEAR by SARA COLERIDGE LOVE AND A QUESTION by ROBERT FROST PORTRAIT OF A LADY by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS |