Though Now I am unwilling, wOes attend Me, so I grieve by fOrce, Let Heaven send Such Detriment no more, for nOw I find, grief wilL alONe DepOse the Noblest mind, Thus this will highest Spirits subjugate, They must (though most unwilling) yield to Fate. LONDON'S EPITAPH Here lies the Flower (as you may understand) Not of a Family, but of a Land; A beauteous LADY, Nations did her court, And all the World unto her did resort: She had a vast Estate (as may appear) And many Sisters, but made none her Heir; No, She (that they the more might sadly mourn) Has all, consumed with her in her URN. But from those Ashes all her Sisters crys Are, that another PHAENIX yet may rise; And all hopes are, Heaven yet will send Unto 'em such another in the End. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A POET THAT DIED YOUNG by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY A SONG FOR THE SINGLE TABLE ON NEW YEAR'S DAY by ELIZABETH FRANCES AMHERST DEATH'S JEST-BOOK by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE AVENUE by GEORGES BOUTELLEAU TO AN ELDERLY AMORIST by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON HAYING TIME IN VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |