Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
XI. O Come Quickly
On the Death of William Aikman
By James Thomson (1700–1748)
 
AS those we love decay, we die in part,
String after string is sever’d from the heart;
Till loosen’d life, at last but breathing clay,
Without one pang is glad to fall away.
 
Unhappy he who latest feels the blow,        5
Whose eyes have wept o’er every friend laid low,
Dragg’d lingering on from partial death to death,
Till, dying, all he can resign is breath.
 
 
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