Go I must; when I am gone,
Write but this upon my stone:
Chaste I lived, without a wife,
That's the story of my life.
Strewings need none, every flower
Is in this word, bachelour.
To His Tomb-maker.
Robert Herrick
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Poem topics: flower, life, wife, write, story, stone, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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