Submitted love poem

To Thyrza: And Thou Art Dead By Lord Byron

Love it, Read it at a friends passing as a Tribute to her.

And thou art dead as young and fair

As ought of mortal birth;

And form so soft and charm so rare;

Too soon returned to earth!

And o’er the spot the crowd may tread

In carelessness or mirth,

There is an eye which could not brook,

A moment on that grave to look.


I will not ask where thou liest low,

Nor gaze upon the spot;

There flowers or weeds at will may grow,

So I behold them not,

To me there needs no stone to tell;

Tis’ nothing that I loved so well.


The flower in ripened bloom unmatched

Must fall the earliest pray;

Though by no hand untimely snatched;

The leaves must drop away,

Yet it were a greater grief

To watch it withering, leaf by leaf,

Than to see it plucked today;

Since earthly eye but I’ll can bear

To trace the change to foul from fair.


I know not if I could have borne;

To see the beauties fade

The night that followed such a morn;

Had worn a deeper shade

A day without a cloud hath past;

And thou wert lovely to the last

Extinguished, not decayed;

As stars that shoot along the sky

Shine brightest as they fall from high.