Here sleeps a Frenchman: Would I could Grave in his language on this wood His many virtues, grace and wit! But then who'd read what I had writ? Nay, when the tongues of Babel cease, One word were all sufficient -- Peace! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWO PROMENADES SENTIMENTALES: 1. RAIN by EDITH SITWELL THE DONKEY by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON FOUND WANTING by EMILY DICKINSON A MONA LISA by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE TITA'S TEARS; A FANTASY by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PURIFICATION OF YE B. VIRGIN (TO A BASE, A TENOR, AND TWO TREBLES) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT DOVE NOTES by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON IN WAR-TIME (AN AMERICAN HOMEWARD-BOUND) by FLORENCE EARLE COATES |