John Dowland

In darkness let me dwell, the ground shall sorrow be,
The roof despair to bar all cheerful light from me,
...

Come, heavy sleep, the image of true death;
And close up these my weary weeping eyes:
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vital breath,
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Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven's sun doth gently waste.
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Come ye heavy states of night,
Do my father's spirit right,
Soundings baleful let me borrow,
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Wilt thou unkind thus reave me
Of my heart, of my heart,
And so leave me, and so leave me?
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Mourn, mourn, day is with darkness fled,
What heavn's then governs earth,
O none, but hell in heaven's stead,
Choke with his mists our mirth.
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FINE knacks for ladies! cheap, choice, brave, and new,
   Good pennyworths--but money cannot move:
I keep a fair but for the Fair to view--
   A beggar may be liberal of love.
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