WHEN that my days are spent, (nor do I know Whether the sun will e'er immise Light to mine eyes,) Methinks a pious tear needs must Offer some violence to my dust. Dust ravell'd in the air will fly Up high; Mingled with water 'twill retire Into the mire: Why should my ashes not be free, When Nature gave them liberty? But when I go, I must them leave In grave. No floods can make my marble so, As moist to grow. Then spare your labour, since your dew Cannot from ashes flowers renew. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BOUND NO'TH BLUES by JAMES LANGSTON HUGHES TO AMARANTHA, THAT SHE WOULD DISHEVEL HER HAIR by RICHARD LOVELACE THE MEDITATION OF THE OLD FISHERMAN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS COMMUNION by DOROTHY P. ALBAUGH THE GROANS OF THE TANKARD by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD A NOVEL OF HIGH LIFE by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY SONNET: AT MY WORD by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON HOME, SWEET HOME WITH VARIATIONS: 4. AUSTIN DOBSON by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER |