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. Lines Written in a Blank Leaf of the ‘Prometheus Unbound’
4. The Old Ghost
5. Song of the Stygian Naiades

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