Born I was to be old, And for to die here. After that, in the mould Long for to lye here. But before that day comes, Still I be Bousing; For I know, in the Tombs There's no Carousing. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TEARS by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE A CONSISTENT GIRL by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS AN ADDRESS TO THE DEITY by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SOLILOQUIES OF A SMALL-TOWN TAXI-DRIVER: ON THE WRITING OF POETRY by EDGAR BARRATT THE WOLF AND SHEPHERDS; A FABLE by JAMES BEATTIE |