I have outlived my life, and linger on, Knowing myself the ghost of one that was. Come, kindly death, and let my flesh, being grass, Nourish some beast's sad life when I am gone. What joy is left in all I look upon? I cannot sin, it wearies me. Alas! I loathe the laggard moments as they pass; I tire of all but swift oblivion. Yet, if all power to taste the dear deceit Be not outworn and perished utterly, If it could be, then surely it were sweet: I go down on my knees and pray: O God, Send me some last illusion, ere I be A clod, perhaps at rest, within a clod. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBERT BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY BEFORE BANNOCKBURN by ROBERT BURNS THE LILY IN CRYSTAL by ROBERT HERRICK VOICES OF THE NIGHT: PRELUDE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SUMTER [APRIL 12, 1861] by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN A CAMEO by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE BLESSING THE LIGHTS by ALTER ABELSON |