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Written by: William Blake | Biography
 | Quotes (135) |
MY silks and fine array  
My smiles and languish'd air  
By Love are driven away; 
And mournful lean Despair 
Brings me yew to deck my grave: 5 
Such end true lovers have. 

His face is fair as heaven 
When springing buds unfold: 
O why to him was 't given  
Whose heart is wintry cold? 10 
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 15 
Let winds and tempests beat: 
Then down I'll lie as cold as clay: 
True love doth pass away!