If that my Fate has now fulfill'd my yeere, And so soone stopt my longer living here; What was't (ye Gods!) a dying man to save, But while he met with his Paternall grave; Though while we living 'bout the world do roame, We love to rest in peacefull Urnes at home, Where we may snug, and close together lye By the dead bones of our deare Ancestrie. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO ROSAMONDE: A BALADE by GEOFFREY CHAUCER THAT HOLY THING by GEORGE MACDONALD THE PUMPKIN by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE DEATH OF HARRISON by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS MY BEAUTIFUL LADY by THOMAS WOOLNER THE COLD WAVE OF 32 B.C. by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS AUTUMN SUNSET ON THE SIERRA NEVADAS by DOROTHY BOARDMAN |