When thou to my true-love com'st Greet her from me kindly; When she asks thee how I fare? Say, folks in Heaven fare finely. When she asks, 'What! Is he sick?' Say, dead! -- and when for sorrow She begins to sob and cry, Say. I come to-morrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE WOMAN by HAYDEN CARRUTH MODULATIONS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ROMANCE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BLACK MAMMY by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THREE SILENCES IN THAILAND by KAREN SWENSON VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 8. FLORENCE by SARA TEASDALE CHANSON D'AUTOMNE by PAUL VERLAINE TO A POET, WHO WOULD HAVE ME PRAISE CERTAIN BAD POETS, IMITATORS ... by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |