My arms are round you, and I lean Against you, while the lark Sings over us, and golden lights, and green Shadows are on your bark. There'll come a season when you'll stretch Black boards to cover me; Then in Mount Jerome I will lie, poor wretch, With worms eternally. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN FLANDERS FIELDS by JOHN MCCRAE FROLIC by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL THE HOUSE OF THE FALSE PROPHET by WILLIAM ROSE BENET A SISTER OF SORROW: 1. UP THE ROAD by GORDON BOTTOMLEY ENCHANTED MACHINES by BERTON BRALEY THE AULD FARMER'S NEW YEAR MORNING SALUTATION ... AULD MARE by ROBERT BURNS THE POET AND THE FLY: 1 by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY |