THIS mortal spoil which so neglected lies, Death's sad Memento, now where spiders weave Their subtil webs, which innocence deceive, Whose strength to break their toils cannot suffice: Saw itself crown'd, itself triumphant saw, With mighty deeds proclaiming its renown; Its smiles were favours, terror was its frown, The World of its displeasure stood in awe. Where Pride ordaining laws did once preside, Which land should peace enjoy, which wars abide, There boldly now these little insects nest; Then raise not, Kings, your haughty plumes so high, For in Death's cold embraces when you lie, Your bones with those of common subjects rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMMER NIGHT-BROADWAY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER A NEWPORT ROMANCE by FRANCIS BRET HARTE ARMS AND THE BOY by WILFRED OWEN THE TEARES OF THE MUSES by EDMUND SPENSER UPON A WASP CHILLED WITH COLD by EDWARD TAYLOR A CROWNED POET by ANNE REEVE ALDRICH THE BLACK MOUSQUETAIRE; A LEGEND OF FRANCE by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |