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Poem by William Shakespeare


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,
   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 corse, 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! 



William Shakespeare


William Shakespeare's other poems:
  1. The Church at Stratford
  2. Anne Hathaway
  3. Hark! Hark! The Lark
  4. From Venus and Adonis
  5. How Like A Winter Hath My Absence Been


Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Thomas Beddoes Dirge ("We do lie beneath the grass")
  • Felicia Hemans Dirge ("CALM on the bosom of thy God")
  • Adelaide Crapsey Dirge ("NEVER the nightingale")
  • George Darley Dirge ("Prayer unsaid, and mass unsung, Deadman's dirge must still be rung")
  • Edna Millay Dirge ("Boys and girls that held her dear")

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