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 of 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-dread
thunder-stone;
Fear not slander,
censure rash;
Thou hast finished
joy and moan;
All lovers young,
all lovers must
Consign to thee,
and come to dust.
No exorciser harm
thee!
Nor no witchcraft
charm thee!
Ghost unlaid
forbear thee!
Nothing ill come
near thee!
Quiet consummation
have;
And renowned be
thy grave!
Comments
Post a Comment
thanks