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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 crow-flowers, 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 pendent 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, awhile they bore her up: Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes; 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, Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death. Hamlet Shakespeare Hamlet Shakespeare Ofeliafotografia Fujifilmxa5 Fujifilm Fuji Portrait Of A Woman Women Portrait Photography Photography The Minimalist - 2019 EyeEm Awards Water Underwater Swimming The Minimalist - 2019 EyeEm Awards The Minimalist - 2019 EyeEm Awards
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