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...TO SEE THE STARS IN DAYLIGHT by JAMES GALVIN BALLADE OF DEAD FRIENDS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON TO LIVE MERRILY AND TO TRUST TO GOOD VERSES by ROBERT HERRICK TO R. B. by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS THE LOST PLEIAD by WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS THE EARLY PRIMROSE by HENRY KIRKE WHITE |