In this installment, Geraldine Monk reads “We do lie beneath the grass” by Thomas Lovell Beddoes. Monk was born in England in 1952. Her work has appeared in many of the major anthologies including Conductors of Chaos, the Oxford Anthology of 20th Century British & Irish Poetry and the first Ahadada Reader. Noctivagations, her 2001 collection of poetry and other texts was published by West House Books and her Selected Poems from Salt Publications appeared in 2003. Escafeld Hangings her latest collection is due to be published by West House Books in 2005. More information and a personal web page is available here.

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Thomas Lovell Beddoes, Death’s Jest Book, “We do lie beneath the grass”

We do lie beneath the grass
In the moonlight, in the shade
Of the yew-tree. They that pass
Hear us not. We are afraid
They would envy our delight,
In our graves by glow-worm night.

Come follow us, and smile as we;
We sail to the rock in the ancient waves,
Where the snows fall by thousands into the sea,
And the drown’d and the shipwreck’d have happy graves.

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In this installment, Geraldine Monk reads “If thou wilt ease thine heart” by Thomas Lovell Beddoes. Monk was born in England in 1952. Her work has appeared in many of the major anthologies including Conductors of Chaos, the Oxford Anthology of 20th Century British & Irish Poetry and the first Ahadada Reader. Noctivagations, her 2001 collection of poetry and other texts was published by West House Books and her Selected Poems from Salt Publications appeared in 2003. Escafeld Hangings her latest collection is due to be published by West House Books in 2005. More information and a personal web page is available here.

download MP3

Thomas Lovell Beddoes, Death’s Jest Book, “If thou wilt ease thine heart”

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 eye-lashes;
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;
’T is 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.

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