CALL for the robin-redbreast and the wren, Since oer shady groves they hover,
leaves and flowers do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men.
Call unto his funeral dole1
the field-mouse, and the mole,
To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm,
And (when gay tombs are
robbd) sustain no harm;
But keep the wolf far thence, thats foe to men,
For with his nails hell dig them
HARK! Now everything is still,
The screech-owl and the whistler shrill,
Call upon our dame
And bid her quickly don her shroud!
Much you had of land and rent;
Your length in clays now competent:
A long war disturbd your
Here your perfect peace is signd.
Of what ist fools make such vain keeping?
Sin their conception, their birth weeping,
a general mist of error,
Their death a hideous storm of terror.
Strew your hair with powders sweet,
clean linen, bathe your feet,
Andthe foul fiend more to check
A crucifix let bless your neck:
full tide tween night and day;
End your groan and come away.
ALL the flowers of the spring
Meet to perfume our burying;
These have but their growing prime,
man does flourish but his time:
Survey our progress from our birth
We are set, we grow, we turn to
Courts adieu, and all delights,
All bewitching appetites!
Sweetest breath and clearest eye
go out and die;
And consequently this is done
As shadows wait upon the sun.
Vain the ambition of kings
seek by trophies and dead things
To leave a living name behind,
And weave but nets to catch the wind.
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