Ophelia's Ghost
There is a willow grows aslant a brook
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream.
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crowflowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,
That liberal shepherds give a grosser name,
But our cold maids do “dead men’s fingers” call them.
There, on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke,
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,
And mermaid-like a while they bore her up,
Which time she chanted snatches of old lauds
As one incapable of her own distress,
Or like a creature native and indued
Unto that element. But long it could not be
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pulled the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.
Comments for "Ophelia's Ghost"
License details for "Ophelia's Ghost"
Creative Commons Sampling Plus 1.0 License.
- River by Adam_N from http://freesound.org +)
- Footsteps_Rocks by areed94 from http://freesound.org +)
- Female giggle with reverb by https://www.freesound.org/people/holadios/sounds/204496/ +)
- Singing Ghost by killbaybee +)
- Splash by Lukeirl from http://freesound.org +)
- Wind Through Leafs by SoundSnap *)
- Girl crying by Stuard +)
- Wind blows in leaves by www.soundsnap.com *)
*) Soundsnap.com license