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My silks and fine array,
My smiles and languish'd air, By love are driv'n away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave; Such end true lovers have. His face is fair as heav'n When springing buds unfold; O why to him was't giv'n Whose heart is wintry cold? 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 Let winds and tempests beat: Then down I'll lie as cold as clay. True love doth pass away! Unsatisfied? Search for more:Other Cool Sites:Hot Arts & Stage NewsLyrics Catalogue Sound Tracks Guide Guide to Serials and Shows English Subtitles For DivX Movies Hundreds of Cooking Recipes Over 5000 Cocktails Recipes Cool Online Encyclopedia Cellulars Descriptions and Reviews Algorithms Dictionary Funny Jokes and Anecdotes. Usenet Newsgroups Reader |