WHEN that my days are spent, (nor do I know Whether the sun will e'er immise Light to mine eyes,) Methinks a pious tear needs must Offer some violence to my dust. Dust ravell'd in the air will fly Up high; Mingled with water 'twill retire Into the mire: Why should my ashes not be free, When Nature gave them liberty? But when I go, I must them leave In grave. No floods can make my marble so, As moist to grow. Then spare your labour, since your dew Cannot from ashes flowers renew. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE AUTHOR TO HER BOOK by ANNE BRADSTREET COUSIN NANCY by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT TO HARTLEY COLERIDGE; SIX YEARS OLD by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 7. TO REVEREND BENJAMIN, LORD BISHOP OF WINCHESTER by MARK AKENSIDE GREENES FUNERALLS: SONNET 3 by RICHARD BARNFIELD ANNIVERSARIUM BAPTISMI (5) by JOSEPH BEAUMONT A PITIFUL CASE by WILLIAM BLAKE |