Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY, by FRANCIS BEAUMONT



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ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Mortality, behold and fear
Last Line: Buried in dust, once dead by fate.
Subject(s): Death; Westminster Abbey; Dead, The


Mortality, behold and fear
What a change of flesh is here!
Think how many royal bones
Sleep within these heaps of stones;
Here they lie, had realms and lands,
Who now want strength to stir their hands,
Where from their pulpits sealed with dust
They preach, "In greatness is no trust."
Here's an acre sown indeed
With the richest royallest seed
That the earth did e'er suck in
Since the first man died for sin:
Here the bones of birth have cried
"Though gods they were, as men they died!"
Here are sands, ignoble things,
Dropt from the ruined sides of kings:
Here's a world of pomp and state
Buried in dust, once dead by fate.




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