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Booke Of Songs And Aires



Me me and none but me Me me and none but me, dart home O gentle death and quicklie, for I draw too long this idle breath: O howe I long till I may fly to heaven above, unto my faithfull and beloved turtle dove. Like to the silver Swanne, before my death I sing: And yet alive my fatall knell I helpe to ring. Still I desire from earth and earthly joyes to flie, He never happie liv’d, that cannot love to die.

Posted by: John Dowland Thu May 21, 2009 @ 04:40am