Epitaph

Far from smoke and din remov'd,
Tir'd of strife, of turmoil sick,
Safe among the clods he lov'd,
(Under sandstone one foot thick,
Three feet square, and laid on brick,
With an ample central hole
For a sturdy, holly-bole,)
Madman deem'd, and blockhead prov'd,
Here the Cornlaw Rhymer's shov'd,
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.