Come Away
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 trueDid share it.
Not a flower, not a flower sweetOn my black coffin let there be strown;Not a friend, not a friend greetMy poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown;A thousand, thousand sighs to save,Lay me, O whereSad true lover ne’er may find my graveTo weep there.