Fear no more the heat o' the sun
Nor the furious winter's rages
Thou thy worldly task hast done
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages
Golden lads and girls all must
As chimney sweepers come to dust

Fear no more the frown of the great
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke
Care no more to clothe and eat
To thee the reed is as the oak
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust

Fear no more the lightning-flash
Nor the all-dread thunder-stone
Fear not slander, censure rash
Thou hast finished joy and moan
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust

No exorciser harm thee
Nor no witchcraft charm thee
Ghost unlaid forbear thee
Nothing ill come near thee
Quiet consummation have
And renowned be thy grave

William Shakespeare

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