To The Passenger

If I lie unburied, sir,
These my relics pray inter:
'Tis religion's part to see
Stones or turfs to cover me.
One word more I had to say:
But it skills not; go your way;
He that wants a burial room
For a stone, has Heaven his tomb.

Robert Herrick The copyright of the poems published here are belong to their poets. Internetpoem.com is a non-profit poetry portal. All information in here has been published only for educational and informational purposes.