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!
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Comments2Just red a rly deep poem by William Shakespeare n it definitely left me feeling melancholic. It's insane how good he was at puting emotions n imagery into just a few words. I gues that's y he's a legend. Honestly, tryna do homwork but got a lil sidetracked since his work is so cool. Amazing how much sadness can b in one poem smh.
WOW, THAT WAS HEART WRENCHING. DOES ANYONE ELSE FEEL THE DESPAIR IN THIS POEM?