When ere I go, or what so ere befalls Me in mine Age, or forraign Funerals, This Blessing I will leave thee, ere I go, Prosper thy Basket, and therein thy Dow. Feed on the paste of Filberts, or else knead And Bake the floure of Amber for thy bread. Balm may thy Trees drop, and thy Springs runne oyle And everlasting Harvest crown thy Soile! These I but wish for; but thy selfe shall see, The Blessing fall in mellow times on Thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEATH THE LEVELLER, FR. THE CONTENTION OF AJAX AND ULYSSES by JAMES SHIRLEY RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE GRAVE OF HOMER by ALCAEUS OF MESSENE THE DIVISION OF POLAND by EDWIN ARNOLD |