WISE to have gone so early to reward, Child of the sword; Wise with a single new-bathed eagle's flight To have touched the white Wild roses spread for feet in paradise. Ah, my son, wise Soon to have drained the new and bitter cup Which, once drunk up, Leads straightway to an old immortal wine Pressed from God's vine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VOICE by WILFRID WILSON GIBSON JANUARY MORNING by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS A CRADLE SONG by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PSALM 6. DOMINE NE IN FURORE by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE AN EPITAPH ON SIR JOHN PROWDE, LIEUTENANT TO CHARLES MORGAN by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |