RT Synapse - шаблон joomla Книги
A large poppy fieldI will not insult you by trying to tell you that one day you will forget. I know as well as you that you will not.
But, at least, in time you will not remember as fiercely as you do now - and I pray that that time may be soon.

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Dirge - Come Away Death - William Shakespeare

Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypres let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it!
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corse, where my bones shall be thrown:
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave
To weep there!


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