You lie, Not where in madcap youth, you ran and played; Nor where the mighty forest monarchs cast their shade Nearby some limpid pool or sylvan glade Beneath the sky. You do not sleep beneath a bloodred moon Nor, brittle, bleached and white, are your bones strewn Upon some grassy hummock; You mix And mingle with the corn and beans, The salad, gravy, and sardines; Asparagus and tangerines, The pickles, pie, and mustard greens, In my protesting stomach! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ARROW AND THE SONG by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE DEFINITION OF LOVE by ANDREW MARVELL ARCHEANASSA by ASCLEPIADES OF SAMOS RIDDLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE ICONOCLAST by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |