Epitaphium Erotii

by Robert Louis Stevenson

Robert Louis Stevenson

HERE lies Erotion, whom at six years old
Fate pilfered. Stranger (when I too am cold,
Who shall succeed me in my rural field),
To this small spirit annual honours yield!
Bright be thy hearth, hale be thy babes, I crave
And this, in thy green farm, the only grave.





Last updated May 02, 2015