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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WHEN I DIE, by GUSTAV FALKE First Line: Upon my forehead lay your crimson roses Last Line: As summer nights on ripened harvests sink. | |||
Upon my forehead lay your crimson roses-- In festive garment from you I would go! The windows open till the light reposes Upon my bed--the starlight's smiling glow. And music! While your songs are still enthralling, And one by one the parting cup you drink, Then I would have my curtain slowly falling, As summer nights on ripened harvests sink. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RAINY SEASON by CLARENCE MAJOR THE UNIVERSITY OF GOTTINGEN by GEORGE CANNING EARLY MORN by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SONNET by ALICE RUTH MOORE DUNBAR-NELSON THE ORPHAN'S COMPLAINT by ANNABEL HANNA BANES ECLOGUE: THE COMMON A-TOOK IN by WILLIAM BARNES THE GERMAN BAND by EARL DERR BIGGERS |
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