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Poetry Archives

A continuing selection of classic and contemporary poems.

Weep No More

John Fletcher

Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan,
Sorrow calls no time that ’s gone:
Violets pluck’d, the sweetest rain
Makes not fresh nor grow again.
Trim thy locks, look cheerfully;
Fate’s hid ends eyes cannot see.
Joys as wingèd dreams fly fast,
Why should sadness longer last?
Grief is but a wound to woe;
Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no moe.
Online text © 1998-2008 Poetry X. All rights reserved.
From The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250-1900 | Clarendon, 1919
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