janne_d: (loch moidart)
Does it sound a little morbid to say that some of my favourite poems are about death? It is a big topic in poetry after all - hard to avoid, given how many poets have written something on the matter. I like the idea of cares being over and done in this one.


Fear No More

Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages,
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages.
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;
Care no more to clothe and eat,
To thee the reed is as the oak;
The sceptre, learning, physick must,
All follow this and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone.
Fear not slander, censure rash,
Thou hast finished joy and moan.
All lovers young, all lovers must,
Consign to thee and come to dust.

-- William Shakespeare

October 2012

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