John Fletcher

(20 December 1579 - 29 August 1625 / Rye, Sussex, England)

Weep no more


WEEP no more, nor sigh, nor groan,
Sorrow calls no time that 's gone:
Violets pluck'd, the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh nor grow again.
Trim thy locks, look cheerfully;
Fate's hid ends eyes cannot see.
Joys as winged dreams fly fast,
Why should sadness longer last?
Grief is but a wound to woe;
Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no moe.

Submitted: Saturday, January 04, 2003
Edited: Tuesday, May 22, 2012

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