Poem
Dirge of the Three Queens
URNS and odours bring away!
Vapours, sighs, darken the day!
Our dole more deadly looks than dying;
Balms and gums and heavy cheers,
Sacred vials fill'd with tears,
And clamours through the wild air flying!
Come, all sad and solemn shows,
That are quick-eyed Pleasure's foes!
We convent naught else but woes.
One poem every morning.
6,130 poems from Shakespeare to Tupac. Read one a day. Save the ones that stay.
Free on the App Store.