Loth to depart, but yet at last, each one Back must now go to's habitation: Not knowing thus much, when we once do sever, Whether or no, that we shall meet here ever. As for my self, since time a thousand cares And griefs hath fil'de upon my silver hairs; 'Tis to be doubted whether I next yeer, Or no, shall give ye a re-meeting here. If die I must, then my last vow shall be, You'l with a tear or two, remember me, Your sometime Poet; but if fates do give Me longer date, and more fresh springs to live: Oft as your field, shall her old age renew, Herrick shall make the meddow-verse for you. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RIVULET by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT THE DINKEY-BIRD by EUGENE FIELD EIGHT O'CLOCK by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN EASTER 1916 by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS EPIGRAM by DECIMUS MAGNUS AUSONIUS THE CARPERS (AN ASPECT) by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |