Robert Herrick

(1591-1674 / London / England)

To Laurels - Poem by Robert Herrick

A funeral stone
Or verse, I covet none;
But only crave
Of you that I may have
A sacred laurel springing from my grave:
Which being seen
Blest with perpetual green,
May grow to be
Not so much call'd a tree,
As the eternal monument of me.


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Read poems about / on: funeral, tree, green, spring



Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002



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