Age, thou the loss of health and friends shalt mourn!
But thou art passing to that night-still bourne,
Where labour sleeps. The linnet, chattering loud
To the May morn, shall sing; thou, in thy shroud,
Forgetful and forgotten, sink to rest;
And grass-green be the sod upon thy breast!
Age
William Lisle Bowles
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Poem topics: green, loss, night, grass, health, labour, mourn, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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