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 Round Table or, King Arthur's Feast
2. Life's Uncertain Day
3. Instead of Sitting Wrapped up in Flannel
4. Lines on the Death of Julia
5. A Bill for the Better Promotion of Oppression on the Sabbath Day

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