Take them o'death | |
And bear away | |
Whatever thou canst | |
Call thine own | |
Thine imagine stamped | |
Upon this clay | |
Doth give thee that | |
But that alone | |
Take tem o'great eternity | |
Our little life is but a gust | |
That bends the brenches of thy tree | |
And trails it's blossoms in the dust | |
Take them o'grave and let them lie | |
Folden upon thy narrow shelves | |
As garments by the soul laid by | |
And precious only to ourselves |