Robert Southwell Poems
|1.||Love's Servile Lot||1/1/2004|
|2.||Content And Rich||4/20/2010|
|3.||The Nativity Of Christ||1/1/2004|
|4.||New Heaven, New War||3/4/2014|
|5.||Man's Civil War||1/1/2004|
|7.||The Burning Babe||1/4/2003|
|8.||A Child My Choice||1/1/2004|
|9.||New Prince New Pomp||1/1/2004|
|10.||Upon The Image Of Death||4/20/2010|
Upon The Image Of Death
Before my face the picture hangs
That daily should put me in mind
Of those cold names and bitter pangs
That shortly I am like to find;
But yet, alas, full little I
Do think hereon that I must die.
I often look upon a face
Most ugly, grisly, bare, and thin;
I often view the hollow place
Where eyes and nose had sometimes been;
I see the bones across that lie,
Yet little think that I must die.
I read the label underneath,
That telleth me whereto I must;
I see the sentence eke that saith
Remember, man, that thou art dust!
But yet, alas, but ...