Aspatia's Song
Lay a garland on my herse
Of the dismal yew;
Maidens, willow branches bear;
Say, I died true.
My love was false, but I was firm
From my hour of birth.
Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth!
More poems by John Fletcher
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“Hence, all ye vain delights”
From “The Nice Valour,” Act III. Sc. 3.
HENCE, all ye vain delights,
As short as are the nights … -
Away, Delights
Away, delights! go seek some other dwelling,
For I must die.
Farewell, false love! thy tongue is ever telling … -
Beauty Clear and Fair
Beauty clear and fair,
Where the air
Rather like a perfume dwells; … -
God Lyaeus
God Lyaeus, ever young,
Ever honour'd, ever sung,
Stain'd with blood of lusty grapes, …