ONCE the head is gray, And the heart is dead, There's no more to do: Make the man a bed Six foot under ground, There he'll slumber sound. Golden was my hair, And my heart did beat To the viol's voice Like the dancers' feet. Not colder now his blood Who died before the flood. Fair, and fond, and false, Mother, wife, and maid, Never lived a man They have not betrayed. None shall 'scape my mirth But old Mother Earth. Safely housed with her, With no company But my brother Worm, Who will feed on me, I shall slumber sound, Deep down under ground. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SUMTER by HENRY HOWARD BROWNELL COWSLIPS AND LARKS by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES TOUJOURS AMOUR by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN BARBARA FRIETCHIE [SEPTEMBER 13, 1862] by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER SATIRE: 1 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS UPON MY FATHERS SUDDEN & DANGEROUS SICKNESS by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |