Xii: An Epitaph Poem by Alfred Edward Housman
Xii: An Epitaph
Stay, if you list, O passer by the way;
Yet night approaches; better not to stay.
I never sigh, nor flush, nor knit the brow,
Nor grieve to think how ill God made me, now.
Here, with one balm for many fevers found,
Whole of an ancient evil, I sleep sound.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
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4/25/2024 9:24:14 AM # 1.0.0.1119
