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The Shepherd's Garden

By William Davies

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LOVE'S FUNERAL.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


77

LOVE'S FUNERAL.

Will you come to Love's funeral?
He lies dead in the street;
Black mourners spreading forth his pall
With saddest tears do greet.
He knew a many songs;
His soul was filled with joy;
He died slain with a hundred wrongs
That cruel hearts employ.
O Love, sweet Love,
We have loved thee long and true,
And wilt thou leave us thus, Love,
Without a last adieu?
He was worn with long wandering
In sorrow up and down:
His quiver backwards he did fling,
And tramped through all the town.
Fair maidens kissed and sighed
Alack! when he went by,
As to himself he softly cried,
Then laid him down to die.
O Love, sweet Love,
Loved more than I can tell,
And wilt thou leave us thus, Love,
Nor bid us once farewell?

78

His lips they were very pale;
His eyes had lost their fire;
Hushed half untold his tender tale,
The music of his lyre:
Then as he lay forespent,
Death came and whispered low,
The hour is past to thee was lent,
And it is time to go.
O Love, sweet Love,
Beloved, but all in vain,
And art thou gone, indeed, Love,
To come no more again?