When Father Time swings round his scythe, Intomb me 'neath the bounteous vine, So that its juices red and blythe, May cheer these thirsty bones of mine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG OF THE STYGIAN NAIADES by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES EPITAPHS OF THE WAR, 1914-18: A DRIFTER OFF TARENTUM by RUDYARD KIPLING EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 6. FAIR AND SOFTLY by PHILIP AYRES JUDGES: SONG OF DEBORAH; FRAGMENTS by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE RECOGNITION by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN QUAIL AND THRUSH by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON |