Hark! Now everything is still,
The screech-owl and the whistler shrill,
Call upon our dame aloud,
And bid her quickly don her shroud!
Much you had of land and rent;
Your length in clay 's now competent:
A long war disturb'd your mind;
Here your perfect peace is sign'd.
Of what is 't fools make such vain keeping?
Sin their conception, their birth weeping,
Their life a general mist of error,
Their death a hideous storm of terror.
Strew your hair with powders sweet,
Don clean linen, bathe your feet,
And-the foul fiend more to check-
A crucifix let bless your neck:
'Tis now full tide 'tween night and day;
End your groan and come away.
The Shrouding Of The Duchess Of Malfi
John Webster
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Poem topics: away, birth, death, hair, life, night, peace, perfect, war, april fools, sweet, long, storm, mind, clean, error, Valentine's Day, screech, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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