MY silks and fine array, My smiles and languish'd air, By Love are driven away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: Such end true lovers have. His face is fair as heaven When springing buds unfold: O why to him was 't given, Whose heart is wintry cold? His breast is Love's all-worshipp'd tomb, Where all Love's pilgrims come. Bring me an axe and spade, Bring me a winding-sheet; When I my grave have made, Let winds and tempests beat: Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay: True love doth pass away! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTHER O' MINE by RUDYARD KIPLING FOR THE HOLY FAMILY, BY MICHELANGELO (IN THE NATIONAL GALLERY) by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI WAR AND WASHINGTON by JONATHAN MITCHELL SEWALL SONNET: 9. TO THE RIVER LODON by THOMAS WARTON THE YOUNGER THE SHRINE OF VENUS by ANTIPATER OF SIDON ON BEAU NASH'S PICTURE AT BATH by JANE (HUGHES) BRERETON |