milkweeds

come away. Thy husband in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes, Contempt and beggary hangs upon the cheek of night Whiter than new snow upon a raven’s back. Come gentle night, come Romeo; come, thou day in the vault, To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, And cruel death hath catch’d it from my only hate! Too early seen