From Twelfth Night.
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 parts 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!
- William Shakespeare
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My Favorite Poems
PoetryFrom Robert Frost to Shakespeare, from daffodils to The Cremation of Sam McGee, this book is a collection of some of the greatest, loveliest, funniest, and just most beautifulist poems (in my opinion) ever written. Enjoy. I designed the cover and @S...
