Now that the sunlight dies in my eyes,
And the moonlight grows in my hair,
I who was never very wise,
Never was very fair,
Virgin and martyr all my life,
What has life left to give
Me--who was never mother nor wife,
Never got leave to live?
Nothing of life could I clasp or claim,
Nothing could steal or save.
So when you come to carve my name,
Give me life in my grave.
To keep me warm when I sleep alone
A lie is little to give;
Call me 'Magdalen' on my stone,
Though I died and did not live.
The Death Of Agnes
Edith Nesbit
(1)
Poem topics: alone, hair, mother, sleep, wife, wise, claim, warm, grave, moonlight, save, sunlight, stone, I love you, I miss you, live, life, never, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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