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! 

Added: Nov 3 2005 | Viewed: 335 times | Comments (0)

Poet: John Fletcher
Poem: Aspatia's Song

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