WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' 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-dreaded thunder-stone,
Fear not slander, censure rash,
Thou hast nnish'd joy and moan:
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
No exerciser harm thee' Ghost unlaid forbear thee' Nothing ill come near thee I Quiet consummation have; And renowned be thy grave!
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��757 Bridal Song
&OSES, their sharp spines being gone,
Not royal in their smells alone, But in their hue; Maiden pinks, of odour faint, Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint, And sweet thyme true;
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