In this little Vault she lyes, Here, with all her jealousies: Quiet yet; but if ye make Any noise, they both will wake, And such spirits raise, 'twill then Trouble Death to lay agen. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FETES GALANTES: PANYOMIME by PAUL VERLAINE ON THE BALCONY by PAUL VERLAINE MARRIAGE by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO THE VIRGINIAN VOYAGE [1611] by MICHAEL DRAYTON AFTER DEATH by FRANCES ISABEL PARNELL CRY WOE, WOE, AND LET THE GOOD PREVAIL, FR. AGAMEMNON by AESCHYLUS A THOUGHT FROM SCHILLER by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: THE COURT OF PENANCE by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |