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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536893" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Song</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536893" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">My silks and fine array,<br>My smiles and languish'd air,<br>By love are driv'n away;<br>And mournful lean Despair<br>Brings me yew to deck my grave;<br>Such end true lovers have.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536893" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">His face is fair as heav'n<br>When springing buds unfold;<br>O why to him was't giv'n<br>Whose heart is wintry cold?<br>His breast is love's all-worshipp'd tomb,<br>Where all love's pilgrims come.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536893" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Bring me an axe and spade,<br>Bring me a winding sheet;<br>When I my grave have made<br>Let winds and tempests beat:<br>Then down I'll lie as cold as clay.<br>True love doth pass away!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Blake">William Blake</a></strong></div>

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