DEATH.
Reading edition
We mourn the dead, as though we could not die,
Nor think that ere the grass grows on their graves,
Nay, ere our tears are dried, we may be call’d
To quit this life, while counting on long years.
Reading edition
We mourn the dead, as though we could not die,
Nor think that ere the grass grows on their graves,
Nay, ere our tears are dried, we may be call’d
To quit this life, while counting on long years.