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Oh! Snatch’d Away

by George Gordon Byron, 1881

Oh! snatch’d away in beauty’s bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
  But on thy turf shall roses rear
  Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:

And oft by yon blue gushing stream
  Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
And feed deep thought with many a dream,
  And lingering pause and lightly tread;
  Fond wretch! as if her step disturb’d the dead.

Away! we know that tears are vain,
  That death nor heeds nor hears distress:
Will this unteach us to complain?
  Or make one mourner weep the less?
And thou—who tell’st me to forget,
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.

Published in Poetry of Byron

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