| |
When these graven lines you see, Traveller, do not pity me; Though I be among the dead, Let no mournful word be said.
Children that I leave behind, And their children, all were kind; Near to them and to my wife, I was happy all my life.
My three sons I married right, And their sons I rocked at night; Death nor sorrow never brought Cause for one unhappy thought.
Now, and with no need of tears, Here they leave me, full of years,-- Leave me to my quiet rest In the region of the blest.
Edwin Arlington Robinson
Read poems about / on: children, sorrow, happy, death, night, life, son, child
|
|
User Rating: |
|
7.0
/10 (28 votes) |
|
|
|