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SWEET Flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I
strew, — O woe ! thy canopy is dust and stones;Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,
Or, wanting that, with tears distilled by moans : The obsequies that I for thee will keep Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.
Pardon, Goddess of the night,
Midnight, assist our moan;
Heavily, heavily :
FEAR no more the heat o' the sun
Nor the furious winter's rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages : Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o’the great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat ;
To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone ; Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finish'd joy and moan : All lovers young, all lovers must Consign to thee, and come to dust.
No exorciser harm thee !
THE FAIRY LIFE
W HERE the bee sucks, there suck I:
In a cowslip's bell I lie ;
After summer merrily.
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands : Courtsied when you have and kiss'd
The wild waves whist,