| Come 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, |
‘For ever 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.
|
| Alfred, Lord
Tennyson | Classic
Poems |
| |
|
[ The Brook ] [ Blow, Bugle, Blow ] [ Come into the garden Maud ] [ Tithonus ] [ Ulysses ] [ Tears, Idle Tears ] [ The Lady of Shalott ] [ Song of the Lotus-Eaters ] [ The Charge of the Light Brigade ] [ In the Valley of Cauteretz ] [ In Memoriam ] [ The Eagle ] |
