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Poem by Richard Lovelace


Oreheus To Woods


Heark! Oh heark! you guilty trees,
In whose gloomy galleries
Was the cruell'st murder done,
That e're yet eclipst the sunne.
Be then henceforth in your twigges
Blasted, e're you sprout to sprigges;
Feele no season of the yeere,
But what shaves off all your haire,
Nor carve any from your wombes
Ought but coffins and their tombes. 



Richard Lovelace


Richard Lovelace's other poems:
  1. The Faire Begger
  2. Cupid Far Gone
  3. The Vintage to the Dungeon
  4. Lucasta's World
  5. Love Conquer'd


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