Laid out for dead, let thy last kindnesse be With leaves and mosse-work for to cover me: And while the Wood-nimphs my cold corps inter, Sing thou my Dirge, sweet-warbling Chorister! For Epitaph, in Foliage, next write this, Here, here the Tomb of Robin Herrick is. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR WALT WHITMAN by DAVID IGNATOW MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS by LUCY AIKEN OF A WINNOWER OF WHEAT TO THE WINDS by JOACHIM DU BELLAY FIVE LITTLE WANDERINGS: 2. CHILDHOOD by BERTON BRALEY |