Quotes about strown (2 Quotes)

What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle, Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile. In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown, The heathen in his blindness Bows down to wood and stone.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse where my bones shall be thrown;
A thousand thousand to save,
Lay me, O, where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there!