Here restes ye boddie of one Chrystopher Orcherdson. Lyf he lived merrilie; Nowe he doth deathlie lie: All ye joye from his brighte face Quencht in this bitter place. With gratefull voice then saye, Not oures, but Goddes waye! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BALLAD OF PROSE AND RHYME by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON TO THE ONE OF FICTIVE MUSIC by WALLACE STEVENS ON A PORTRAIT by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD STANZAS TO WILLIAM ROSCOE, ESQ. by BERNARD BARTON LITTLE GREGORY by THEODORE BOTREL HOW TO CATCH A BLACK-FISH by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: FIFTH ECLOGUE; TO HIS FRIEND CHRISTOPHER BROOKE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |