URNS and odours bring away!
Vapours, sighs, darken the day!
Our dole more deadly looks than dying;
Balms and gums and heavy cheers,
Sacred vials fill'd with tears,
And clamours through the wild air flying!
Come, all sad and solemn shows,
That are quick-eyed Pleasure's foes!
We convent naught else but woes.
More verses by William Shakespeare
- Fairy Land Iii
- Juliet's Soliloquy
- Sonnet 130: My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun
- It Was A Lover And His Lass
- Fairy Land Ii