 | The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich |  |
EPITAPHS
Honest Iago. When his breath was fledDoubtless these words were carven at his head.
Such lying epitaphs are like a rose
That in unlovely earth takes root and grows.
| The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich | |
Doubtless these words were carven at his head.
Such lying epitaphs are like a rose
That in unlovely earth takes root and grows.