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Upon A Fit Of Sickness

Rating: 2.7

Twice ten years old not fully told
since nature gave me breath,
My race is run, my thread spun,
lo, here is fatal death.
All men must die, and so must I;
this cannot be revoked.
For Adam's sake this word God spake
when he so high provoked.
Yet live I shall, this life's but small,
in place of highest bliss,

Where I shall have all I can crave,
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Angela langdon 24 January 2019

very nice very nice

0 0 Reply
Ratnakar Mandlik 20 February 2017

this life but small, in place of highest bliss Thanks for sharing it here.

3 0 Reply
Anne Bradstreet 21 March 2007

Why isn't anyone commenting on my lovely poem! ? ! ? I will find you all, I will hunt you down and eat you and the contents of your refrigerator.

3 0 Reply