Oh! Snatched Away in Beauty's Bloom

Lord Byron

Lord Byron portrait

1788 to 1824

Poem Image
Track 1

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Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom,
But on thy turf shall roses rear
That Death nor heeds nor hears distress:
Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
Will this unteach us to complain?
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:
And feed deep thought with many a dream,
And thou—who tell'st me to forget,
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.
And oft by yon blue gushing stream
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
Or make one mourner weep the less?
And lingering pause and lightly tread;
Away! we know that tears are vain,
Fond wretch! as if her step disturbed the dead!

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