Dearest of thousands, now the time drawes neere, That with my Lines, my Life must full-stop here. Cut off thy haires; and let thy Teares be shed Over my Turfe, when I am buried. Then for effusions, let none wanting be, Or other Rites that doe belong to me; As Love shall helpe thee, when thou do'st go hence Unto thy everlasting residence. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FIRELIGHT by KATHERINE MANSFIELD AFTER WRITING A POEM by DAVID IGNATOW DRIFTERS: BELLA COOLA TO WILLIAMS LAKE by KAREN SWENSON THE NURSE'S STORY: THE HAND OF GLORY by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM INHERITANCE by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE EPSOM DUEL, 1689 by THOMAS (TOM) BROWN LEOLINE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |