Thomas Love Peacock

 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.