Now is the time, when all the lights wax dim; And thou (Anthea) must withdraw from him Who was thy servant. Dearest, bury me Under that Holy-oke, or Gospel-tree: Where (though thou see'st not) thou may'st think upon Me, when thou yeerly go'st Procession: Or for mine honour, lay me in that Tombe In which thy sacred Reliques shall have roome: For my Embalming (Sweetest) there will be No Spices wanting, when I'm laid by thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VIRTUOSO; IN IMITATION OF SPENCER'S STYLE AND STANZA by MARK AKENSIDE THE FIRE OF DRIFTWOOD; DEVEREUX FARM, NEAR MARBLEHEAD by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW TO THE RIVER CHARLES by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW AFAR IN THE DESERT by THOMAS PRINGLE WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY MRS. HARRIS'S PETITION: TO EXCELLENCIES THE LORDS JUSTICES OF IRELAND by JONATHAN SWIFT |