Thy reliques, Rowe, to this fair urn we trust, And sacred, place by Dryden's awful dust: Beneath a rude and nameless stone he lies, To which thy tomb shall guide inquiring eyes. Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless Rest! Blest in thy genius, in thy love too blest! One grateful woman to thy fame supplies What a whole thankless land to his denies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BRUCE AND THE SPIDER by BERNARD BARTON FRAGMENT THIRTY-SIX by HILDA DOOLITTLE PEG OF LIMAVADDY by WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY TO THE MAN-OF-WAR-BIRD by WALT WHITMAN A LETTER TO HER HUSBAND by ANNE BRADSTREET |