"Hamlet: Poem Unlimited"
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~ Ophelia ~

Of all wonders, I see my brother!
But why, when he looks upon me,
should he seem so stricken?
What is it that he now says?
“Oh heat, dry up my brains! Tears seven times salt,
burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!
By heaven, your madness shall be paid by weight,
till our scale turn the beam.
Oh rose of May!
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia!
Oh heavens! Is it possible, a young maid's wits
should be as mortal as an old man's life?
Nature is fine in love, and where 'tis fine,
it sends some precious instance of itself
after the thing it loves.”
Poor Laertes. I must sing to him,
to soothe this pain he seems to feel.
“They bore him barefaced on the bier;
hey non nonny, nonny, hey nonny;
and in his grave rain'd many a tear:
fare you well, my dove!
You must sing a-down a-down,
and you call him a-down-a.
Oh, how the wheel becomes it!
It is the false steward, that stole his master's daughter.”
I remember, when we were little,
I would pick flowers to bring to mother when she was sad.
Laertes must have flowers now,
because mother and father are gone.
My poor brother.
“There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,
love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts.
There's fennel for you, and columbines:
there's rue for you; and here's some for me: we may call it
herb-grace o' Sundays: oh you must wear your rue
with a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you
some violets, but they withered all when my father
died: they say he made a good end --
for bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
And will he not come again?
And will he not come again?
No, no, he is dead:
go to thy death-bed:
he never will come again.
His beard was as white as snow,
all flaxen was his poll:
he is gone, he is gone,
and we cast away moan:
God have mercy on his soul!
And of all Christian souls, I pray God.
God be with you.”
Next: The death of Ophelia, the musings of a
gravedigger, Hamlet returns to Denmark, and
more...coming soon!