OPHELIA

There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples …
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke;
When down her weedy trophies and herself
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up; …
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,
Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay
To muddy death.
~Ophelia, Hamlet (Shakespeare)