(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

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.

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Comments (11)

" We convent naught else but woes" A great touching poem penned by the master craftsman.
Clamours through the wild! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.
Wonderful poem by the master poet. Come, all sad and solemn shows, That are quick-eyed Pleasure's foes! We convent naught else but woes
'We convent naught else but woes' - An appropriate ending to the poem.
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