Wise in his day that heathen emperor, To whom each morrow, came a slave, and cried, "Philip, remember thou must die"; no more. To me such daily voice were misapplied -- Disease guests with me; and each cough, or cramp, Or aching, like the Macedonian slave, Is my @3memento mori.@1 'T is the stamp Of God's true life to be in dying brave. "I fear not death, but dying" -- not the long Hereafter, sweetened by immortal love; But the quick, terrible last breath, -- the strong Convulsion. Oh, my Lord of breath above! Grant me a quiet end, in easeful rest, -- A sweet removal, on my mother's breast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LAMENT OF THE MASTER ERSKINE by ALEXANDER SCOTT (1520-1590) I HEARD YOUR SOLEMN-SWEET PIPES by WALT WHITMAN THE TWO ANGELS by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER SONNET ON PIETRO REGGIO HIS SETTING TO MUSIC MR. COWLEY'S POEMS by PHILIP AYRES ON THE KING'S ILLNESS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD DAWN AT LEXINGTON by KATHARINE LEE BATES |