LOOK, my countrymen, as I go my last road, and see my last of the sunlight now and for ever. Death, who puts all to their sleep, leads my living body to his dark lakeside. For me were no choristers to sing the bride home; no song of the wedding night they sang for me. I shall lie with the waters of Death. Tales of doom I have heard, and hers most pitiful who wed here, out of Phrygia, -- a daughter of Tantalus -- and died on Sipylus top. Taut as ivy the hardness of stone crept up and held her fast. She wastes away, so they tell, in everlasting rain and falls of snow; from under her weeping brows scarped rocks run wet. Most like her I am borne by destiny to the bed of my rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: 144 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ONE PERSON: 16 by ELINOR WYLIE THE BALLAD OF A DAFT GIRL by DOROTHY ALDIS FUNERAL by ETHEL SKIPTON BARRINGER THE HAWAIIAN FLIGHT SQUADRON by CHARLOTTE LOUISE BERTLESEN THANKSGIVING by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE BALAUSTION'S ADVENTURE: PART 5 by ROBERT BROWNING |