WHILE all the dancing days that pass Take oath we cannot die, Alas! Alas! green grows the grass Whereunder you must lie. A golden Knight, sans fear or peer, Lord Love great challenge saith:— The hooded year is moving near That strikes my heart with death. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust! O bitterness thereof! The sons of Lust, they moulder. Must So fare the sons of Love? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY by WILLIAM AUGUSTUS MUHLENBERG ODE TO MASTER ANTHONY STAFFORD [TO HASTEN HIM INTO COUNTRY] by THOMAS RANDOLPH THE FORSAKEN by C. HAMILTON AIDE ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 16. TO CALEB HARDINGE, M.D. by MARK AKENSIDE |