Mine eyes, of old the beamiest of the beamy, Are now, alas! the filmiest of the filmy: So meagre am I, too, no lath is like me; Death, for my shadowy thinness, cannot see me, And when he enters my sad cell to kill me, His lance will not know how or when to strike me! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VISION (1) by ROBERT HERRICK THE MEDITATION OF THE OLD FISHERMAN by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS SONNET: 12 by RICHARD BARNFIELD A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 4 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT ARCADIUS AND SEPHA by WILLIAM BOSWORTH AN ELEGY OF HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |