That Morne which saw me made a Bride, The Ev'ning witnest that I dy'd. Those holy lights, wherewith they guide Unto the bed the bashfull Bride; Serv'd, but as Tapers, for to burne, And light my Reliques to their Urne. This Epitaph, which here you see, Supply'd the Epithalamie. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET: DANTE (1) by MICHELANGELO BUONARROTI FALLING ASLEEP by SIEGFRIED SASSOON IO VICTIS by WILLIAM WETMORE STORY THE STORK by GHALIB IBN RIBAH AL-HAJJAM THE TITANIC by KATHARINE LEE BATES FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: DAY OF SURPASSING BEAUTY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES PSALM 120 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE A HOUSE IN FESTUBERT by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN BRITANNIA'S PASTORALS: BOOK 1. TO WILLIAM, EARL OF PEMBROKE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |