Dirge of Love

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    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 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.

This work was published before January 1, 1923, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.