As wearied pilgrims, once possest
Of long'd-for lodging, go to rest,
So I, now having rid my way,
Fix here my button'd staff and stay.
Youth, I confess, hath me misled;
But age hath brought me right to bed.
His Own Epitaph
Robert Herrick
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Poem topics: long, stay, youth, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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