terça-feira, 23 de março de 2010
'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 press'd 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.
9Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900)