My silks and fine array My smiles and languish'd air By love are driv'n away And mournful lean despair Brings me yew to deck my grave Such end true lovers have His face is fair as heaven When springing buds unfold O why to him was't given Whose heart is wintry cold wintry cold Bring me an axe and spade Bring me a winding sheet When I my grave have made Let winds and tempests beat Then down down I lay cold cold as clay True love doth pass away