Poem by Francis Beaumont

* * *

Lay a garland on my hearse,
   Of the dismal yew,
Maidens, willow branches bear,
   Say I died true.
My love was false, but I was firm
   From my hour of birth;
Upon my buried body lie
   Lightly, gentle earth.

1. The Examination of His Mistress's Perfections
2. The Conclusion
3. On the Marriage of a Beauteous Young Gentlewoman with an Ancient Man
4. Mr. Francis Beaumont's Letter to Ben Jonson
5. The Author to the Reader

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