James Herbert Morse - The d**h of Love lyrics

Love doth not stir my heart; sweet love is dead, Its cheek is pale, its lovely eyelids closed; No, not a quiver shakes the lowly bed Where the dear ashen image lies reposed. I can go nigh and lift the mournful veil, I can look down and touch the chiselled lips,-- Remember that they were not always pale, But red--ah, rosy-red--with smiles and quips. I can do this, then pa** with but a tear, That tear soon taught to decorate a smile, Mayhap adorn a verse to please an ear That love's sweet music yet will help beguile. Ah God! so dead to Love, and yet not dead! Would I were with her on her lowly bed!