O Death, have care Only a Childe lies here. A fear-full mite was he, My last-born, @3Timothy@1. Shroud then thy grewsome face, When thou dost pass this place; Lest his small ghoste should see, And weep for me! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SURPRISES by AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR THE PERENNIAL RABBIT by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS THE MULLA-MULGARS' JOURNEY SONG by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE SONNET-WRITING TO F. W. F. by FREDERICK WILLIAM FABER |