poet Robert Herrick

Robert Herrick

#161 on top 500 poets

To Laurels

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.

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

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