O heavy herse!
Let streaming tears be poured out in store;
O careful verse!
"Shepheards, that by your flocks of Kentish downs abide,
Wail ye this woful waste of Nature's wark;
Wail we the wight, whose presence was our pride;
Wail we the wight, whose absence is our cark;
The sun of all the world is dim and dark;
The earth now lacks her wonted light,
And all we dwell in deadly night.