O Death, have care Only a Childe lies here. A fear-full mite was he, My last-born, @3Timothy@1. Shroud then thy grewsome face, When thou dost pass this place; Lest his small ghoste should see, And weep for me! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE SOUTH ON ITS NEW SLAVERY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE HOMECOMING by THOMAS HARDY HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 4 by EZRA POUND LITTLE JERRY, THE MILLER by JOHN GODFREY SAXE THE CONFIDENT SCIENTIST by ALEXIS REVERY by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |