Come Away Come Away Death
Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress 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!
The forward violet thus did I chide:
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that …
If not from my love's breath? The purple pride
If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
Those lips that Love's own hand did make
Breathed forth the sound that said "I hate"
To me that languished for her sake.
Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,
Some in their wealth, some in their bodies' force,
Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill,
When I do count the clock that tells the time,
And see the brave day sunk in hideous night;
When I behold the violet past prime,
All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give.
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
Sweet love, renew thy force; be it not said
Thy edge should blunter be than appetite,
Which but to-day by feeding is allayed,
O, never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify.
As easy might I from myself depart