Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

EPITAPH by HAFEZ

First Line: BETHINK, POOR HEART, WHAT BITTER KIND OF JEST
Last Line: SHE LAID A SLAB OF MARBLE ON HIS HEAD.
Subject(s): EPITAPHS;
Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest
Mad Destiny this tender stripling played;
For a warm breast of maiden to his breast,
She laid a slab of marble on his head.



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