Poems (Bacon)/Song to ophelia
SONG TO OPHELIA
Unto thy grass-hidden charms Nature worketh no alarms; Changeth all thy breath to dew,And thine eyes to violets blue, Weave th all thy waving hair Into beams to light the air! Thus the song—and yet he saith"Ah! how sad a thing is Death!"
Over thy earth-covered breast Springtime snow doth lightly rest; Never hath been spun a sheet For thy purity more meet; Lovelier the earth shall be Now that it doth prison thee! Thus the song—and yet he saith"Ah! how sad a thing is Death!"