Resurrection Song.

Thread the nerves through the right holes;
Get out of my bones, you wormy souls.
Shut up my stomach, the ribs are full;
Muscles be steady and ready to pull.
Heart and artery merrily shake,
And eyelid go up, for we're going to wake. -
His eye must be brighter -one more rub!
And pull up the nostrils! his nose was a snub.

Thomas Lovell Beddoes 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.