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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. Thomas Love Peacock's other poems:
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