Dirge Poem by William Shakespeare
Dirge
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!
The meaning of the word 'dirge' is a musical term which refers to a funeral song, a slow, mounrful musical composition. In this poem the lyrical self calls for death. In the second stanza the lyrical self addresses his friends and his lovers and prohibits them to feel sorry for him. He does not want flowers to be thrown to his coffin, nor he wants his lover to cry over his grave. shakespeare-etc.org
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
A brilliant piece well articuated and nicely penned from the heart. Really a poignant piece written with conviction....
it sounds so odd when creating own lamenting, while the person in question is still alive. But a good poem on the theme of Dirge. CONGRATULATIONS as Classic Poem Of The Day on last 4 August 2019.
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: .....touching expression. This is really a beautiful poem composed by William Shakespeare.
My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Actually we always suffer this pain alone Though our loved ones try accompany us But they don't take a share of death Which we meet
Lovely tribute to all the days when one feels like that! Emotions of a depressing moment expressed with much enchantment. Beautiful!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 11:51:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
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)