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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WHEN I DIE, by GUSTAV FALKE First Line: Upon my forehead lay your crimson roses Last Line: As summer nights on ripened harvests sink. | |||
Upon my forehead lay your crimson roses-- In festive garment from you I would go! The windows open till the light reposes Upon my bed--the starlight's smiling glow. And music! While your songs are still enthralling, And one by one the parting cup you drink, Then I would have my curtain slowly falling, As summer nights on ripened harvests sink. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I WANT TO LIVE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CONTENTMENT, AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACE by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY HOW THE CUMBERLAND WENT DOWN [MARCH 8, 1862] by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL POLWART ON THE GREEN by ALLAN RAMSAY THE REPLY OF Q. HORATIUS FLACCUS TO A ROMAN 'ROUND-ROBIN' by ALFRED AUSTIN BURY HIM DEEP by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES RETURN by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |
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