Come Away, Death Come away, Death. and in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white stuck all with yew, O, prepare it! My part of death, no one so true, did share it. Not a flower sweet on my black coffin let there be strewn; not a friend, greet my poor corpse where my bones shall be thrown, A thousand sighs to save, lay me, O where, sad true lover, never find my grave, to weep there.