Thomas Gent (Томас Гент)

Rosa's Grave

Oh! lay me where my Rosa lies,
   And love shall o'er the moss-crown'd bed,
When dew-drops leave the weeping skies,
   His tenderest tear of pity shed.

And sacred shall the willow be,
   That shades the spot where virtue sleeps;
And mournful memory weep to see
   The hallow'd watch affection keeps.

Yes, soul of love! this bleeding heart
   Scarce beating, soon its griefs shall cease;
Soon from his woes the suff'rer part,
   And hail thee at the Throne of Peace! 

1. Henry and Eliza
2. To a Fly, on the Bosom of Chloe, While Sleeping
3. Lines, Written on the Sixth of September
4. On the Death of Lord Nelson
5. To ––––

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1857

Последние стихотворения

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