Page:Forget Me Not (1824).djvu/402

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STANZAS

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Oh! pale is that cheek
Where the rose flourished brightly;
And cold is that heart
Which beat warmly and lightly;
And that lip I have clung to
The loathsome newt presses,
And the cold earth-worm strays
Midst those dark flowing tresses.

Yes, the earth-worm's the lover
That twines round thee now;
The rank grass waves over
That heaven-beaming brow;
The night-wind is sighing
Its dirge o'er thy head,
And the screech-owl replying
In shrieks for the dead.