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Poem by Thomas Lovell Beddoes


Song from the Second Brother


STREW not earth with empty stars,
Strew it not with roses,
Nor feathers from the crest of Mars,
Nor summer's idle posies.
'Tis not the primrose-sandalled moon,
Nor cold and silent morn,
Nor he that climbs the dusty noon,
Nor mower war with scythe that drops,
Stuck with helmed and turbaned tops
Of enemies new shorn.

Ye cups, ye lyres, ye trumpets know,
Pour your music, let it flow,
'Tis Bacchus' son who walks below.



Thomas Lovell Beddoes


Thomas Lovell Beddoes's other poems:
  1. To Tartar, A Terrier Beauty
  2. Resurrection Song
  3. Song of the Stygian Naiades
  4. The Rosy Hour
  5. Lines Written in a Blank Leaf of the Prometheus Unbound


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