COME, Terror of the wise, and valiant, come, And with a sigh let my griev'd soul have room Amongst the shades; then shall my cares be gone; All there drink Waters of Oblivion. So went the Heroes of the World, and so Or soon, or late, all that are born must go; Thou, Death, to me art welcome as a friend, For thou with life putt'st to my griefs an end. Of this poor earth, and blast of breath allied, How easily by thee the knot's untied: This spring of tears which trickles from mine eyes Is natural, and when I die, it dries. Matter for sighs I drew with my first breath, And now a sigh ushers my soul to death; So cares and griefs determine by consent, This favour owe I to my monument. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN by ROBERT BROWNING A SONG TO MITHRAS by RUDYARD KIPLING TO THE UNKNOWN EROS: BOOK 1: 8. DEPARTURE by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE A FAREWELL TO LONDON IN THE YEAR 1715 by ALEXANDER POPE TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS HOOD by BARTHOLOMEW SIMMONS AGAINST INDIFFERENCE by CHARLES WEBBE THE KNIGHTS: DEMOS AND HIS FLATTERER by ARISTOPHANES |