Poem by Thomas Lovell Beddoes

* * *

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. 

1. Song from the Waters
2. The Rosy Hour
3. Song of the Stygian Naiades
4. Lines Written in a Blank Leaf of the ‘Prometheus Unbound’
5. Song from Torrismond

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