Gerald Massey
First Lines
Before the grim Grave closes, let me drop
Farewell, Sweet! may you find a nest
Gaily the Sun woos the Spring for his Bride,
Like leaves from Autumn's bough, Old Friend,
Methought to bear her branches crowned
No jewell'd Beauty is my Love,
O love will make the leal heart ache
Softly sink in slumbers golden,
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