Home ⇒ 📌William Shakespeare ⇒ Dirge
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!
(1 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
Related poetry:
- 54. Man was made to Mourn: A Dirge WHEN chill November’s surly blast Made fields and forests bare, One ev’ning, as I wander’d forth Along the banks of Ayr, I spied a man, whose aged step Seem’d weary, worn with care; His face furrow’d o’er with years, And hoary was his hair. “Young stranger, whither wand’rest thou?” Began the rev’rend sage; “Does thirst […]...
- Dawn Song WHILE the earth is dark and grey How I laugh within. I know In my breast what ardours gay From the morning overflow. Though the cheek be white and wet In my heart no fear may fall: There my chieftain leads and yet Ancient battle trumpets call. Bend on me no hasty frown If my […]...
- Autumn: A Dirge The warm sun is falling, the bleak wind is wailing, The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, And the Year On the earth is her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying. Come, Months, come away, From November to May, In your saddest array; Follow the bier Of the dead […]...
- The Dirge of Wallace When Scotland’s great Regent, our warrior most dear, The debt of his nature did pay, T’ was Edward, the cruel, had reason to fear, And cause to be struck with dismay. At the window of Edward the raven did croak, Though Scotland a widow became; Each tie of true honor to Wallace he broke – […]...
- Father Death Blues (Don't Grow Old, Part V) Hey Father Death, I’m flying home Hey poor man, you’re all alone Hey old daddy, I know where I’m going Father Death, Don’t cry any more Mama’s there, underneath the floor Brother Death, please mind the store Old Aunty Death Don’t hide your bones Old Uncle Death I hear your groans O Sister Death how […]...
- THE WIDOWS' TEARS; OR, DIRGE OF DORCAS Come pity us, all ye who see Our harps hung on the willow-tree; Come pity us, ye passers-by, Who see or hear poor widows’ cry; Come pity us, and bring your ears And eyes to pity widows’ tears. CHOR. And when you are come hither, Then we will keep A fast, and weep Our eyes […]...
- THE GARDEN OF DEATH Weak but alive Dying yet still alive Huge eyes Round like golf balls White as bones Bony framed Fleshless Pus in orifices Worms Teeth, white teeth Skull and bones. Am sorry for life Oh this pain deeper than Only death can save My friend, I am sorry That you pain When you sleep, wake Pain, […]...
- And Death Shall Have No Dominion And death shall have no dominion. Dead mean naked they shall be one With the man in the wind and the west moon; When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone, They shall have stars at elbow and foot; Though they go mad they shall be sane, Though they sink through the […]...
- Song from Aella O SING unto my roundelay, O drop the briny tear with me; Dance no more at holyday, Like a running river be: My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed All under the willow-tree. Black his cryne as the winter night, White his rode as the summer snow, Red his face as the morning light, […]...
- My Coffin Deeming that I was due to die I framed myself a coffin; So full of graveyard zeal was I, I set the folks a-laughing. I made it snugly to my fit, My joinering was honest; And sometimes in it I would sit, And fancy I was non est. I stored it on my cabin shelf […]...
- Dirge Boys and girls that held her dear, Do your weeping now; All you loved of her lies here. Brought to earth the arrogant brow, And the withering tongue Chastened; do your weeping now. Sing whatever songs are sung, Wind whatever wreath, For a playmate perished young, For a spirit spent in death. Boys and girls […]...
- Dirge Knows he who tills this lonely field To reap its scanty corn, What mystic fruit his acres yield At midnight and at morn? In the long sunny afternoon, The plain was full of ghosts, I wandered up, I wandered down, Beset by pensive hosts. The winding Concord gleamed below, Pouring as wide a flood As […]...
- Vision Of The Archangels, The Slowly up silent peaks, the white edge of the world, Trod four archangels, clear against the unheeding sky, Bearing, with quiet even steps, and great wings furled, A little dingy coffin; where a child must lie, It was so tiny. (Yet, you had fancied, God could never Have bidden a child turn from the spring […]...
- A Dirge for a Righteous Kitten To be intoned, all but the two italicized lines, which are to be spoken in a snappy, matter-of-fact way. Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong. Here lies a kitten good, who kept A kitten’s proper place. He stole no pantry eatables, Nor scratched the baby’s face. He let the alley-cats alone. He had no yowling vice. His shirt […]...
- As At Thy Portals Also Death AS at thy portals also death, Entering thy sovereign, dim, illimitable grounds, To memories of my mother, to the divine blending, maternity, To her, buried and gone, yet buried not, gone not from me, (I see again the calm benignant face fresh and beautiful still, I sit by the form in the coffin, I kiss […]...
- Of Death I try to think like this Of Death I try to think like this The Well in which they lay us Is but the Likeness of the Brook That menaced not to slay us, But to invite by that Dismay Which is the Zest of sweetness To the same Flower Hesperian, Decoying but to greet us I do remember when a […]...
- Dirge of the Three Queens URNS and odours bring away! Vapours, sighs, darken the day! Our dole more deadly looks than dying; Balms and gums and heavy cheers, Sacred vials fill’d with tears, And clamours through the wild air flying! Come, all sad and solemn shows, That are quick-eyed Pleasure’s foes! We convent naught else but woes....
- Sonnet XXXII If thou survive my well-contented day, When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover, Compare them with the bettering of the time, And though they be outstripp’d by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their […]...
- Sonnet 32: If thou survive my well-contented day If thou survive my well-contented day When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover, And shalt by fortune once more re-survey These poor rude lines of thy deceasèd lover, Compare them with the bett’ring of the time, And though they be outstripped by every pen, Reserve them for my love, not for their […]...
- THE DIRGE OF JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER:SUNG BY THE VIRGINS O thou, the wonder of all days! O paragon, and pearl of praise! O Virgin-martyr, ever blest Above the rest Of all the maiden-train! We come, And bring fresh strewings to thy tomb. Thus, thus, and thus, we compass round Thy harmless and unhaunted ground; And as we sing thy dirge, we will The daffadil, […]...
- If You Had A Friend If you had a friend strong, simple, true, Who knew your faults and who understood; Who believed in the very best of you, And who cared for you as a father would; Who would stick by you to the very end, Who would smile however the world might frown: I’m sure you would try to […]...
- Reconciliation WORD over all, beautiful as the sky! Beautiful that war, and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost; That the hands of the sisters Death and Night, incessantly softly wash again, and ever again, this soil’d world: … For my enemy is dead-a man divine as myself is dead; I look […]...
- If I were dead ‘IF I were dead, you’d sometimes say, Poor Child!’ The dear lips quiver’d as they spake, And the tears brake From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled. Poor Child, poor Child! I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song. It is not true that Love will do no wrong. Poor Child! […]...
- A Sea Dirge There are certain things as, a spider, a ghost, The income-tax, gout, an umbrella for three That I hate, but the thing that I hate the most Is a thing they call the Sea. Pour some salt water over the floor Ugly I’m sure you’ll allow it to be: Suppose it extended a mile or […]...
- On the Funeral of Charles the First The castle clock had tolled midnight: With mattock and with spade, And silent, by the torches’ light, His corse in earth we laid. The coffin bore his name, that those Of other years might know, When earth its secrets should disclose, Whose bones were laid below. “Peace to the dead” no children sung, Slow pacing […]...
- A Dirge “Mein Herz, mein Herz ist traurig Doch lustig leuchtet der Mai” There’s May amid the meadows, There’s May amid the trees; Her May-time note the cuckoo Sends forth upon the breeze. Above the rippling river May swallows skim and dart; November and December Keep watch within my heart. The spring breathes in the breezes, The […]...
- Sonnet CXXXIII Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! Is’t not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet’st friend must be? Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken, And my next self thou harder hast engross’d: Of him, myself, and […]...
- Sonnet 133: Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me! Is’t not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet’st friend must be? Me from my self thy cruel eye hath taken, And my next self thou harder hast engrossed. Of him, myself, […]...
- Time Long Past Like the ghost of a dear friend dead Is Time long past. A tone which is now forever fled, A hope which is now forever past, A love so sweet it could not last, Was Time long past. There were sweet dreams in the night Of Time long past: And, was it sadness or delight, […]...
- Etymological Dirge ‘Twas grace that taught my heart to fear. Calm comes from burning. Tall comes from fast. Comely doesn’t come from come. Person comes from mask. The kin of charity is whore, The root of charity is dear. Incentive has its source in song And winning in the sufferer. Afford yourself what you can carry out. […]...
- Dirge Without Music I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned. […]...
- Dirge in Woods A wind sways the pines, And below Not a breath of wild air; Still as the mosses that glow On the flooring and over the lines Of the roots here and there. The pine-tree drops its dead; They are quiet, as under the sea. Overhead, overhead Rushes life in a race, As the clouds the […]...
- Dirge for Two Veterans 1 THE last sunbeam Lightly falls from the finish’d Sabbath, On the pavement here-and there beyond, it is looking, Down a new-made double grave. 2 Lo! the moon ascending! Up from the east, the silvery round moon; Beautiful over the house tops, ghastly phantom moon; Immense and silent moon. 3 I see a sad procession, […]...
- 15. Winter: A Dirge THE WINTRY west extends his blast, And hail and rain does blaw; Or the stormy north sends driving forth The blinding sleet and snaw: While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, And roars frae bank to brae; And bird and beast in covert rest, And pass the heartless day. “The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast,” […]...
- A Clasp Of Hands SOFT, small, and sweet as sunniest flowers That bask in heavenly heat When bud by bud breaks, breathes, and cowers, Soft, small, and sweet. A babe’s hands open as to greet The tender touch of ours And mock with motion faint and fleet The minutes of the new strange hours That earth, not heaven, must […]...
- It's Good To Have a Friend Like You! It’s good to have a friend like you, Whose friendship is sincere and true! Someone to lend a helping hand, To care for me and understand. When I am feeling sad and blue, It’s good to have a friend like you, To help me sort my troubles out, And clear my mind of fear and […]...
- The Spider “Oh, look at that great ugly spider!” said Ann; And screaming, she brush’d it away with her fan; “‘Tis a frightful black creature as ever can be, I wish that it would not come crawling on me. ” “Indeed,” said her mother, “I’ll venture to say, The poor thing will try to keep out of […]...
- The Death King I hired a carpenter To build my coffin And last night I lay in it, Braced by a pillow, Sniffing the wood, Letting the old king Breathe on me, Thinking of my poor murdered body, Murdered by time, Waiting to turn stiff as a field marshal, Letting the silence dishonor me, Remembering that I’ll never […]...
- The Fool Rings His Bells Come, Death, I’d have a word with thee; And thou, poor Innocency; And Love a lad with broken wing; Apnd Pity, too; The Fool shall sing to you, As Fools will sing. Ay, music hath small sense, And a tune’s soon told, And Earth is old, And my poor wits are dense; Yet have I […]...
- Such, Such Is Death Such, such is Death: no triumph: no defeat: Only an empty pail, a slate rubbed clean, A merciful putting away of what has been. And this we know: Death is not Life, effete, Life crushed, the broken pail. We who have seen So marvellous things know well the end not yet. Victor and vanquished are […]...