Vide Shakspeare. <br /> <br />Beneath a churchyard yew, <br />Decay'd and worn with age, <br />At dusk of eve methought I spied <br />Poor Slender's Ghost, that whimpering cried, <br />'O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!' <br /> <br />Ye gentle Bards! give ear, <br />Who talk of amorous rage, <br />Who spoil the lily, rob the rose, <br />Come learn of me to weep your woes: <br />'O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!' <br /> <br />Why should such labour'd strains <br />Your formal Muse engage? <br />I never dreamt of flame or dart, <br />That fired my breast or pierced my heart, <br />But sigh'd, 'O sweet Anne Page!' <br /> <br />And you! whose lovesick minds <br />No med'cine can assuage, <br />Accuse the leech's art no more, <br />But learn of Slender to deplore; <br />'O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!' <br /> <br />And ye! whose souls are held, <br />Like linnets in a cage; <br />Who talk of fetters, links, and chains, <br />Attend and imitate my strains; <br />'O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!' <br /> <br />And you! who boast or grieve, <br />What horrid wars ye wage, <br />Of wounds received from many an eye, <br />Yet mean as I do, when I sigh, <br />'O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!' <br /> <br />Hence every fond conceit <br />Of shepherd or of sage; <br />'Tis Slender's voice, 'tis Slender's way, <br />Expresses all you have to say, <br />'O sweet! O sweet Anne Page!'<br /><br />William Shenstone<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/slender-s-ghost/
