Thomas Love Peacock (Томас Лав Пикок)

* * *

I dug, beneath the cypress shade,
What well might seem an elfin's grave;
And every pledge in earth I laid,
That erst thy false affection gave.

I pressed them down the sod beneath;
I placed one mossy stone above;
And twined the rose's fading wreath
Around the sepulchre of love.

Frail as thy love, the flowers were dead,
Ere yet the evening sun was set:
But years shall see the cypress spread,
Immutable as my regret.

1. The Lady, the Knight, and the Friar
2. Rich & Poor; or Saint & Sinner
3. Lines on the Death of Julia
4. To a Young Lady, Netting
5. The Sundial

Распечатать (Print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1105

Последние стихотворения

To English version