No longer mourn for me when I am dead Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell: Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it; for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot If thinking on me then should make you woe. O, if, I say, you look upon this verse When I perhaps compounded am with clay, Do not so much as my poor name rehearse. But let your love even with my life decay, Lest the wise world should look into your moan And mock you with me after I am gone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DYING SWAN by THOMAS STURGE MOORE THE DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR by ALFRED TENNYSON AS I SIT WRITING HERE by WALT WHITMAN MOONLIGHT by MARGUERITE ATTERBURY LILIES: 25. THY LOVE-SERVICE by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) THE ARID LANDS by HERBERT BASHFORD MY GARDEN by CHAIM NACHMAN BIALIK THE ELDER WOMAN'S SONG: 1, FR. KING LEAR'S WIFE by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |