When ere I go, or what so ere befalls Me in mine Age, or forraign Funerals, This Blessing I will leave thee, ere I go, Prosper thy Basket, and therein thy Dow. Feed on the paste of Filberts, or else knead And Bake the floure of Amber for thy bread. Balm may thy Trees drop, and thy Springs runne oyle And everlasting Harvest crown thy Soile! These I but wish for; but thy selfe shall see, The Blessing fall in mellow times on Thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EVENTIDE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IRELAND by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 101 by OMAR KHAYYAM FOUR PRELUDES ON PLAYTHINGS OF THE WIND by CARL SANDBURG THE FIRESIDE CHAIRS; HUSBAND TO WIFE by WILLIAM BARNES THE POOR MAN'S PIG by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN PASTELLE IN BLUE by IDA MAY BORNCAMP |