(John Dowland) [Extract from a letter to Sir Robert Cecil...]
(John Dowland) (Instrumental)
(John Dowland) Come heavy sleepe the image of true death; And close up these my weary weeping eyes: Whose spring of tears doth stop my vitall breath,
(John Dowland) Wilt thou unkind thus reave me Of my heart, of my heart, And so leave me, and so leave me? Wilt thou unkind thus reave me Of my heart
I come from hevin which to tell The best nowells that e'er befell To you thir tythings trew I bring And I will of them say and sing. This day to you
(John Dowland) Come again! sweet love doth now invite Thy graces that refrain To do me due delight, To see, to hear, to touch, to kiss, to die, With
(John Dowland) In darkness let me dwell; the ground shall sorrow be, The roof despair, to bar all cheerful light from me; The walls of marble black,
Inside the doors are sealed to love, Inside my heart is sleeping Inside the fingers of my glove, Inside the bones of my right hand Inside it's colder
(John Dowland) Weep you no more, sad fountains; What need you flow so fast? Look how the snowy mountains Heav'n's sun doth gently waste. But my sun's
(John Dowland) Cleare or cloudie sweet as April showring, Smooth or frowning so is hir face to mee, Pleasd or smiling like milde May all flowring, When
Finding the world in the smallness of a grain of sand And holding infinities in the palm of your hand And heaven's realms in the seedlings of this tiny