Dirge of Love

By William Shakespeare (1546 ~ 1616)

  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,
                  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;
  Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
                   Lay me, O where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
                   To weep there.