Epitaphium Erotii

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.

Next 10 Poems

• Robert Louis Stevenson : Fair Isle At Sea
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Farewell
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Fear Not, Dear Friend, But Freely Live Your Days
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Fixed Is The Doom
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Flower God, God Of The Spring
• Robert Louis Stevenson : For Richmond's Garden Wall
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Frag1
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Frag2
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Fragments
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Go, Little Book - The Ancient Phrase

Previous 10 Poems

• Robert Louis Stevenson : Envoy For A Child's Garden Of Verses
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Early In The Morning I Hear On Your Piano
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Duddingstone
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Dedicatory Poem For Underwoods
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Dedication
• Robert Louis Stevenson : Death, To The Dead For Evermore
• Robert Louis Stevenson : De M. Antonio
• Robert Louis Stevenson : De Ligurra
• Robert Louis Stevenson : De Hortis Julii Martialis
• Robert Louis Stevenson : De Erotio Puella