O woe, woe, People are born and die, We also shall be dead pretty soon Therefore let us act as if we were dead already. The bird sits on the hawthorn tree But he dies also, presently. Some lads get hung, and some get shot. Woeful is this human lot. @3Woe! woe, etcetera@1. . . . London is a woeful place, Shropshire is much pleasanter. Then let us smile a little space Upon fond nature's morbid grace. @3Oh, Woe, woe, woe, etcetera@1. . . . | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FINIS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE JOY OF THE HILLS by EDWIN MARKHAM AT THE MERMAID TAVERN (APRIL 10, 1613) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS DOMESDAY BOOK: AT FAIRBANKS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PENNIWIT, THE ARTIST by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |