Goe, perjur'd man; and if thou ere return To see the small remainders in mine Urne: When thou shalt laugh at my Religious dust; And ask, Where's now the colour, forme and trust Of Womans beauty? and with hand more rude Rifle the Flowers which the Virgins strew'd: Know, I have pray'd to Furie, that some wind May blow my ashes up, and strike thee blind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FORGOTTEN TUNE by PAUL VERLAINE SONNET by ALICE RUTH MOORE DUNBAR-NELSON INSPIRATION (2) by HENRY DAVID THOREAU PLUTARCH by AGATHIAS SCHOLASTICUS ODES: BOOK 2: ODE 14. THE COMPLAINT by MARK AKENSIDE SONG, FR. A VISION OF GIORGIONE: GEMMA'S SONG ON THE WAY by GORDON BOTTOMLEY LINES SUGGESTED BY A LATE OCCURRENCE by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD |