 Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid ; Fly away, fly away, breath ; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it ! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower...  The Plays of William Shakspeare: Sketch of the life of Shakspeare. Tempest ... - Página 277por William Shakespeare - 1811Visualização integral - Acerca deste livro
 | William Shakespeare - 1992 - 132 páginas
...Come away, come away, death, 50 And in sad cypress let me be laid.69 Fly away, fly away, breath,70 I am slain by a fair cruel maid: My shroud of white,...flower, not a flower sweet On my black coffin let there be strown: Not a friend, not a friend greet 60 My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: A thousand... | |
 | Edith P. Hazen - 1992 - 1172 páginas
...OxBSP; PoE; PoRA; TrGrPo 176 Come away, come away, death. And in sad cypress let me be laid. Fly away, T; NoP The Wound-Dresser Հ T "F 1992 Columbi...University Press"# Hazen Edith P." Edith P. Hazen( (II, iv) CTC; E1L; ELP; FiP; GBL; GTBS; GTBS-P; NOBE; NoP; OBEY; OBSC; PoEL-2; PoRA; TrGrPo 177 When... | |
 | William Shakespeare - 1993 - 220 páginas
...plays FESTE (sings) Come away, come away, death, so And in sad cypress let me be laid. Fie away, fie away, breath! I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My...Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet On my bkck coffin let there be strewn. Not a friend, not a friend greet 00 My poor corpse, where my bones... | |
 | William Shakespeare - 1994 - 692 páginas
...plays FESTE (sings) io Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid. Fie away, fie away, breath! I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My...flower, not a flower sweet On my black coffin let there be strewn. 60 Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand... | |
 | 1971 - 962 páginas
[ O conteúdo desta página está restrito ] | |
 | Arthur Graham - 1997 - 244 páginas
...me be laid. Fly away, fly away, breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck with yew, O, prepare it. My part of death, no one...flower, not a flower sweet, On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown. A thousand... | |
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