Poem Hunter
Poems
Dirge
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Dirge

Poem By William Shakespeare

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!

User Rating: 3,3 / 5 ( 125 votes ) 25

Comments (25)

it sounds so odd when creating own lamenting, while the person in question is still alive. But a good poem on the theme of Dirge. CONGRATULATIONS as Classic Poem Of The Day on last 4 August 2019.
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: .....touching expression. This is really a beautiful poem composed by William Shakespeare.
My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Actually we always suffer this pain alone Though our loved ones try accompany us But they don't take a share of death Which we meet
Lovely tribute to all the days when one feels like that! Emotions of a depressing moment expressed with much enchantment. Beautiful!
wow what a great dirge this is! //// great and great dirge
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