Dearest of thousands, now the time drawes neere, That with my Lines, my Life must full-stop here. Cut off thy haires; and let thy Teares be shed Over my Turfe, when I am buried. Then for effusions, let none wanting be, Or other Rites that doe belong to me; As Love shall helpe thee, when thou do'st go hence Unto thy everlasting residence. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JUBILATE AGNO: GARDNER'S TALENT by CHRISTOPHER SMART OF A CONTENTED MIND [OR, SPIRIT] by THOMAS VAUX THE APOLOGY OF THE BISHOPS IN ANSWER TO BONNER'S GHOST by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD CASSANDRA by RICHARD BARNFIELD A HOP AT SARATOGA by LEVI BISHOP SONG, FR. A VISION OF GIORGIONE: FELICE'S SONG by GORDON BOTTOMLEY |