Dirge Poem by Thomas Lovell Beddoes
Dirge
We do lie beneath the grass
In the moonlight, in the shade
Of the yew-tree. They that pass
Hear us not. We are afraid
They would envy our delight,
In our graves by glow-worm night.
Come follow us, and smile as we;
We sail to the rock in the ancient waves,
Where the snow falls by thousands into the sea,
And the drown'd and the shipwreck'd have happy graves.
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4/23/2024 5:49:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Powerful use of description. The words hard and direct. This is poetry.