Sweet Lie of the Flower-Maid

This is the first draft of a poem I wrote about Ophelia - studying Hamlet at uni and was just inspired. It's a distorted sort of sonnet in a distorted sort of iambic pentameter... :)

Oh to die a sweet lie, fair flower-maid

Of time escaped of me, I you envy.

The heavy garments, winding snares round you,

Like dead men’s fingers you sought to caress,

Didst make your death ever more beauteous.

How so to sing and sink to muddy death?

That thou didst fall so fast and die so slow

Doth sit upon my mind like men chain-ed,

Unloosed and bound by guilty conscience.

To die, to sleep – to sleep, perchance to dream

Is heavenly and for all your treasures,

Sweet lady of disturb-ed sanity,

Didst thou melodiously sing and fade

From one world to the next.

The End

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