Poems (Bacon)/Song to ophelia

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SONG TO OPHELIA
Unto thy grass-hidden charms Nature worketh no alarms; Changeth all thy breath to dew,And thine eyes to violets blue, Weaveth 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!"
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