'TIS not to force more tears from your sad eye That we write thus -- that were a piety Turn'd guilt and sin; we only beg to come And pay due tribute to his sacred tomb. The Muses did divide his love with you, And justly, therefore, may be mourners too. Instead of cypress, they have brought fresh bays To crown his urn, and every dirge is praise. But since with him the learned tongues are gone, Necessity here makes us use our own. Read in his praise your own -- you cannot miss, For he was but our wonder -- you were his. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TEARES OF THE MUSES by EDMUND SPENSER ON HIS MISTRESS, THE QUEEN OF BOHEMIA by HENRY WOTTON DARDANELLES by THEODORE AUBANEL PLAYFORD; A DESCRIPTIVE FRAGMENT by BERNARD BARTON THE RUBY THROAT by RUTH BUTLER BROWN THE DREADED TASK by MARGARET E. BRUNER ON MADAN'S ANSWER TO NEWTON'S COMMENTS ON THELYPHTORA by WILLIAM COWPER |