Sons, seek not me among these polished stones; These only hide part of my flesh, and bones: Which, did they ne'er so neat, or proudly dwell, Will all turn dust, and may not make me swell. Let such as justly have outlived all praise, Trust in the tombs, their careful friends do raise; I made my life my monument, and yours: To which there's no material that endures; Nor yet in description like it. Write but that; And teach your nephews it to emulate: It will be matter loud enough to tell Not when I died, but how I lived. Farewell. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON SENESIS' MUMMY by LEONIE ADAMS THE PASSING OF WOODROW WILSON, PROPHET OF PEACE by VINCENT GODFREY BURNS THE OLD WASHERWOMAN by ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO THE GRANDFATHER by JOHN JAY CHAPMAN UPON FORD'S TWO TRAGEDIES by RICHARD CRASHAW EPISTLE TO THE LADY LUCY, COUNTESS OF BEDFORD by SAMUEL DANIEL |