Thomas Lovell Beddoes (1803–1849)

IF thou wilt ease thine heart

Of love and all its smart,

Then sleep, dear, sleep;

And not a sorrow

Hang any tear on your eyelashes;

Lie still and deep,

Sad soul, until the sea-wave washes

The rim o’ the sun to-morrow,

In eastern sky.

But wilt thou cure thine heart

Of love and all its smart,

Then die, dear, die;

’Tis deeper, sweeter,

Than on a rose-bank to lie dreaming

With folded eye;

And then alone, amid the beaming

Of love’s stars, thou’lt meet her

In eastern sky.