"DEATH, BE NOT PROUD" From "Holy Sonnets " DEATH, be not proud, though some have called thee For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die! IN THE SHADOW MELANCHOLY From "The Nice Valor" HENCE, all you vain delights, O sweetest Melancholy! A look that's fastened to the ground, These are the sounds we feed upon; Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley; Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy. John Fletcher [1579-1625] ON MELANCHOLY No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist Wolf's-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kissed By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; Make not your rosary of yew-berries, |