SONG FROM MAUD
by: Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892)
- OME into the garden, Maud,
- For the black bat, night, has flown,
- Come into the garden, Maud,
- I am here at the gate alone;
- And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,
- And the musk of the rose is blown.
-
- For a breeze of morning moves,
- And the planet of love is on high,
- Beginning to faint in the light that she loves
- On a bed of daffodil sky,
- To faint in the light of the sun she loves,
- To faint in his light, and to die.
-
- All night have the roses heard
- The flute, violin, bassoon;
- All night has the casement jessamine stirred
- To the dancers dancing in tune;
- Till a silence fell with the waking bird,
- And a hush with the setting moon.
-
- I said to the lily, "There is but one,
- With whom she has heart to be gay.
- When will the dancers leave her alone?
- She is weary of dance and play."
- Now half to the setting moon are gone,
- And half to the rising day;
- Low on the sand and loud on the stone
- The last wheel echoes away.
-
- I said to the rose, "The brief night goes
- In babble and revel and wine.
- O young lord-lover, what sighs are those,
- For one that will never be thine
- But mine, but mine," so I sware to the rose,
- "Forever and ever, mine."
-
- And the soul of the rose went into my blood,
- As the music clashed in the Hall;
- And long by the garden lake I stood,
- For I heard your rivulet fall
- From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,
- Our wood, that is dearer than all;
-
- From the meadow your walks have left so sweet
- That whenever a March-wind sighs
- He sets the jewel-print of your feet
- In violets blue as your eyes,
- To the woody hollows in which we meet
- And the valleys of Paradise.
-
- The slender acacia would not shake
- One long milk-bloom on the tree;
- The white lake-blossom fell into the lake
- As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;
- But the rose was awake all night for your sake,
- Knowing your promise to me;
- The lilies and roses were all awake,
- They sighed for the dawn and thee.
-
- Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,
- Come hither, the dances are done,
- In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls,
- Queen lily and rose in one;
- Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls,
- To the flowers, and be their sun.
-
- There has fallen a splendid tear
- From the passion-flower at the gate.
- She is coming, my dove, my dear;
- She is coming, my life, my fate.
- The red rose cries, "She is near, she is near;"
- And the white rose weeps, "She is late;"
- The larkspur listens, "I hear, I hear;"
- And the lily whispers, "I wait."
-
- She is coming, my own, my sweet;
- Were it ever so airy a tread,
- My heart would hear her and beat,
- Were it earth in an earthy bed;
- My dust would hear her and beat,
- Had I lain for a century dead,
- Would start and tremble under her feet,
- And blossom in purple and red.
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POEMS BY ALFRED TENNYSON |
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