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Home  »  The Oxford Book of English Verse  »  134. Dirge

Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.

William Shakespeare. 1564–1616

134. Dirge

COME away, come away, death, 
  And in sad cypres let me be laid; 
Fly away, fly away, breath; 
  I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,         5
          O prepare it! 
My part of death, no one so true 
          Did share it. 
 
Not a flower, not a flower sweet, 
  On my black coffin let there be strown;  10
Not a friend, not a friend greet 
  My poor corse, where my bones shall be thrown: 
A thousand thousand sighs to save, 
          Lay me, O, where 
Sad true lover never find my grave  15
          To weep there! 
 
GLOSS:  cypres] crape.