DIE not before thy day, poor man condemned, But lift thy low looks from the humble earth, Kiss not despair, and see sweet hope contemned: The hag hath no delight, but moan for mirth, Fie, poor fondling, be thou willing To preserve thyself from killing: Hope thy keeper glad to free thee Bids thee go, and will not see thee Hie thee quickly from thy wrong— So she ends her willing song. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MY INCONSTANT MISTRESS by THOMAS CAREW FLORAL DECORATIONS FOR BANANAS by WALLACE STEVENS EPITAPH ON CHARLES II by JOHN WILMOT EASTER (TO A BASE AND TWO TREBLES) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT DEAD AUTUMN by BEULAH ALLYNE BELL |