Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
William Blake. 17571827485. Song
MY silks and fine array, | |
My smiles and languish’d air, | |
By Love are driven away; | |
And mournful lean Despair | |
Brings me yew to deck my grave: | 5 |
Such end true lovers have. | |
His face is fair as heaven | |
When springing buds unfold: | |
O why to him was ‘t given, | |
Whose heart is wintry cold? | 10 |
His breast is Love’s all-worshipp’d tomb, | |
Where all Love’s pilgrims come. | |
Bring me an axe and spade, | |
Bring me a winding-sheet; | |
When I my grave have made, | 15 |
Let winds and tempests beat: | |
Then down I’ll lie, as cold as clay: | |
True love doth pass away! |