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Poem by Thomas Lovell Beddoes


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LET dew the flowers fill;
No need of fell despair,
Though to the grave you bear
One still of soul-but now too still,
One fair-but now too fair.
For, beneath your feet, the mound,
And the waves, that play around,
Have meaning in their grassy, and their watery, smiles;
And, with a thousand sunny wiles,
Each says, as he reproves,
Death's arrow oft is Love's. 



Thomas Lovell Beddoes


Thomas Lovell Beddoes's other poems:
  1. To Tartar, A Terrier Beauty
  2. Song from the Second Brother
  3. Resurrection Song
  4. Song of the Stygian Naiades
  5. The Rosy Hour


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