Here restes ye boddie of one Chrystopher Orcherdson. Lyf he lived merrilie; Nowe he doth deathlie lie: All ye joye from his brighte face Quencht in this bitter place. With gratefull voice then saye, Not oures, but Goddes waye! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN SHE COMES HOME by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY THE FLIGHT OF THE GODDESS by CELIA THAXTER THE WOLF AND SHEPHERDS; A FABLE by JAMES BEATTIE BLESS, DEAR SAVIOUR, THIS CHILD by THOMAS BECK NAPOLEON III IN ITALY by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE TWO POETS OF CROISIC by ROBERT BROWNING |