Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.

Sir Joseph Noel Paton b. 1821


WITHER’D pansies faint and sweet,

O’er his breast in silence shed,

Faded lilies o’er his feet,

Waning roses round his head,

Where in dreamless sleep he lies—

Folded palms and sealed eyes—

Young Love, within my bosom—dead.

Young Love that was so fond, so fair,

With his mouth of rosy red,

Argent wing and golden hair,

And those blue eyen, glory-fed

From some fount of splendor, far

Beyond or moon or sun or star—

And can it be that he is dead?

Ay! his breast is cold as snow:

Pulse and breath forever fled;

If I kiss’d him ever so,

To my kiss he were as lead;

If I clipp’d him as of yore

He would answer me on more

With lip or hand—for he is dead.

But breathe no futile sigh; no tear

Smirch his pure and lonely bed.

Let no foolish cippus rear

Its weight above him. Only spread

Rose, lily, pale forget-me-not,

And pansies round the silent spot

Where in his youth he lieth—dead