Thrice Toss Those Oaken Ashes In The Air
Thrice toss those oaken ashes in the air; Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair; Then thrice three times tie up this true love's knot, And murmur soft: "She will, or she will not." Go burn those poisonous weeds in yon blue fire, These screech-owl's feathers and this prickling briar, This cypress gathered at a dead man's grave, That all thy fears and cares an end may have. Then come, you fairies, dance with me a round; Melt her hard heart with your melodious sound. In vain are all the charms I can devise; She hath an art to break them with her eyes.
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"Thrice toss those oaken ashes in the air;..."
"Thrice Toss Those Oaken Ashes In The Air" is a quintessential example of Thomas Campion's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...