William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Dirge Poem by William Shakespeare


COME away, come away, death,
   And in sad cypres let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
   I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
   O prepare it!
My part of death, no one so true
   Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
   On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
   My poor corse, where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
   Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave
   To weep there!

Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003
Edited: Monday, March 24, 2014

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Comments about this poem (Dirge by William Shakespeare )

  • Gold Star - 29,147 Points Gajanan Mishra (10/4/2014 8:40:00 AM)

    true lover never find grave. thanks. (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 59 Points Brian Jani (4/26/2014 4:42:00 AM)

    Awesome I like this poem, check mine out (Report) Reply

  • Rookie - 428 Points Krishnakumar Chandrasekar Nair (10/14/2013 3:57:00 AM)

    And so Death gently took my hand
    And as lovers we walked the unlit lane
    To rest in a warm burrow below my native land
    Far from life's madness till I'm ready to be born again (Report) Reply

  • Gold Star - 13,881 Points * Sunprincess * (10/6/2012 3:13:00 AM)

    oh an awesome poem William Shakespeare,
    hope that sad lover never finds your grave
    either..beautifully penned write.. :) (Report) Reply

  • Rookie Charles Mccarthy (3/6/2005 8:28:00 PM)

    Death is a door
    Death is a forest gate, bramble to bluff (Siloam)
    It is a way thru
    – not a way out
    It is but the way thru
    to continue what we have begun

    Death is a hope
    Death is a future
    It draws us deeper into the self’s whole
    It allows us to penetrate the wall of fear

    In death their witness lights:
    Jesus, Ghandi, Biko, King
    Thru death their work becomes known:
    Day, Merton, Hammerskjold, Romero
    After death their message expands:
    Lennon, Chavez, Foucauld
    In spite of death their songs are sung:
    Paz, Shakers
    Seeds sown! Life given!
    Tales told! Songs sung!
    To life (to come) .

    Charles McCarthy,1/19/03
    (inspired by Dominick Argento’s “Dirge”,
    words by William Shakespeare
    performed by Jason Oby and Robert Avalon) (Report) Reply

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