ETERNAL rest on him bestowe, O Lord, and everlastynge light, Who lacked withal for sup or bite, Shorn close on scalp and chin and browe, Who was scrap't bare and smooth, I trowe As any turnip round, poor wighte: Eternal rest on him bestowe. Hard doome befell him here belowe, Drove forth and smote him in sore spite, Though "I appeal!" he cried with mighte, A form of speech that's playne enowe: Eternal rest on him bestowe. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LYRICS AND EPICS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE FUGITIVE by PRINGLE BARRET PSALM 119 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 62. FAREWELL TO JULIET (14) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT TO A PERSIAN ROSE by WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE CAELIA: SONNETS: 1 by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE WORST OF IT by ROBERT BROWNING UPON SOME ALTERATION IN MY MISTRESS, AFTER MY DEPARTURE INTO FRANCE by THOMAS CAREW |