Poem by Robert Herrick

To Laurels

A funeral stone
Or verse, I covet none;
But only crave
Of you that I may have
A sacred laurel springing from my grave:
Which being seen
Blest with perpetual green,
May grow to be
Not so much call'd a tree,
As the eternal monument of me.

1. To Carnations: a Song
2. The Changes: to Corinna
3. The Apron of Flowers
4. The Lily in a Crystal
5. The Bag of the Bee

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