THE GRAVE OF LOVE

I dug, beneath the cypress shade,

What well might seem an elfin's grave;

And every pledge in earth I laid,

That erst thy false affection gave.

I pressed them down the sod beneath;

I placed one mossy stone above;

And twined the rose's fading wreath

Around the sepulchre of love.

Frail as thy love, the flowers were dead

Ere yet the evening sun was set:

But years shall see the cypress spread,

Immutable as my regret.

Thomas Love Peacock