Wolfram's Dirge

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Act II, scene i


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

© Thomas Lovell Beddoes