WHO @3art@1 thou? Whose relics, I wonder, In a plot that the roadway runs through, The coffin half-starting asunder, Lie bare to the traveller's view? Alas, by unceasing attrition The axles and wheels of the wains Have worn out of all recognition The stone that once marked thy remains. The wheels very soon in foul fashion Will be grinding thy breast-bone, I fear, Poor devil, and no man's compassion Afford thee so much as a tear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CAMPUS SONNET: RETURN - 1917 by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET WOODSMOKE AT 70 by HAYDEN CARRUTH FAITH by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE MOTHER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE LEAVES FIRST by CARL PHILLIPS PLAINT OF THE DISGUSTED BRITON IN THE STATES by GEORGE SANTAYANA |