You aske me what I doe, and how I live? And (Noble friend) this answer I must give: Drooping, I draw on to the vaults of death, Or'e which you'l walk, when I am laid beneath. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 44 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN THE NYMPH COMPLAINING FOR THE DEATH OF HER FAUN [OR, FAWN] by ANDREW MARVELL TO MOSCOW by EDNA DEAN PROCTOR DRUG STORE by JOHN VAN ALSTYN WEAVER COME UP FROM THE FIELDS FATHER by WALT WHITMAN TIPPERARY: 5. BY OUR OWN EUGENE FIELD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |