Sixty-Five Sonnets With Prefatory Remarks on the Accordance of the Sonnet with the Powers of the English Language: Also, A Few Miscellaneous Poems [by Thomas Doubleday] |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
XXV. |
XXVI. |
XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
XXXIX. |
XL. |
XLI. |
XLII. |
XLIII. |
XLIV. |
XLV. |
XLVI. |
XLVII. |
XLVIII. |
XLIX. |
L. |
LI. |
LII. |
LIII. | LIII. |
LIV. |
LV. |
LVI. |
LVII. |
LVIII. |
LIX. |
LX. |
LXI. |
LXII. |
LXIII. |
LXIV. |
LXV. |
Sixty-Five Sonnets | ||
79
LIII.
Friends, when my latest bed of rest is made,No empty bowls must ring my funeral knell,
But bumpers rouse the gay song's wildest swell,
While soft you lay me in my vineyard's shade;
And press the ripe grapes till they weep and aid
The rites for one that loved them still so well;
A goblet on my grave its place may tell;
And thus would I be mourn'd, and thus be laid.
My vines, close twining round, shall keep away
The rains, for water ever pain'd my sight;
Haply, as mild departs th' autumnal day,
The nightingale, amid their clusters bright,
May sit, and sweetly pour for him the lay,
Whose song, like hers, was heard so oft at night.
Sixty-Five Sonnets | ||