The Shrouding of the Duchess of Malfi
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 disturbed your mind;
Here your perfect peace is signed.
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.
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Comments about this poem (The Shrouding of the Duchess of Malfi by John Webster )
- I am your mind, gajanan mishra
- What is Fall?, MOHAMMAD SKATI
- Holy relation, hasmukh amathalal
- Echo Within, vikram adhikari
- What a Dream it was, mohamed Alpha Ba
- The Sky Above, vikram adhikari
- Burton & Taylor, Bill Grace
- The Echoes rattle, Emmanuel George Cefai
- Where statues from their eyes Shed Tears, Emmanuel George Cefai
- The ghosts and shrouds, Emmanuel George Cefai
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