He left two children, who for virtue, wit, Beauty, were loved of all, -- thee and his writ: Two was too few; yet death hath from us took Thee, a more faultless issue than his book, Who, now the only living thing we have From him, we'll see, shall never find a grave As thou hast done. Alas, would it might be That books their sexes had, as well as we, That we might see this married to its worth, And many poems like itself bring forth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE DEATH OF MR. PURCELL by JOHN DRYDEN MARIPOSA by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY YOUR LAD, AND MY LAD by RANDALL PARRISH BETWEEN WAND AND WELT by MARGARET AHO WINGS AT DAWN by JOSEPH AUSLANDER ASLEEP, ASLEEP; MARTYDOM OF SAINT STEPHEN by LUCY ANN BENNETT THE FOURE MONARCHIES: ASSYRIAN. SEMIRAMIS by ANNE BRADSTREET |