Sweet virgin, that I do not set The pillars up of weeping Jet, Or mournfull Marble; let thy shade Not wrathfull seem, or fright the Maide, Who hither at her wonted howers Shall come to strew thy earth with flowers. No, know (Blest Maide) when there's not one Remainder left of Brasse or stone, Thy living Epitaph shall be, Though lost in them, yet found in me. Dear, in thy bed of Roses, then, Till this world shall dissolve as men, Sleep, while we hide thee from the light, Drawing thy curtains round: Good night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON A VIRTUOUS YOUNG GENTLEWOMAN THAT DIED SUDDENLY by WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT FRANCE: AN ODE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE TRULY GREAT by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES DOWN THE MISSISSIPPI: 2. HEAT by JOHN GOULD FLETCHER A SAD, SAD STORY by MOTHER GOOSE EVEN SO by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |