In Remembrance of Master Shakespeare
Beware, delighted poets, when you sing,
To welcome nature in the early spring,
Your numerous feet not tread
The banks of Avon, for each flower
(As it ne'er knew a sun or shower)
Hangs there the pensive head.
Each Tree, whose thick, and spreading growth hath made,
Rather a Night beneath the Boughs, than Shade,
(Unwilling now to grow)
Looks like the Plume a Captive wears,
Whose rifled Falls are steeped i'th tears
Which from his last rage flow.
The piteous River wept itself away
Long since (Alas!) to such a swift decay;
That reach the Map; and look
If you a River there can spy;
And for a River your mock'd Eye,
Will find a shallow Brook.
- Alan Palmer, Veronica Palmer, Who's Who in Shakespeare's England, Palgrave Macmillan, 1 May 1999, p.61.