Maud

 

Come into the garden, Maud,

For the black bat, night, has flown,

Come into the garden, Maud,

I am here at the gate alone;

A Girl And Roses

(1879)

Auguste Toulmouche

(1829-1890)
French painter

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 a daffodil sky,

To faint in the light of the sun that she loves,

To faint in his light and die.

All night have the roses heard

The flute, violin, bassoon;

All night has the casement jessamine stirr'd

To the dancers dancing in tune;

Till a silence fell with the waking bird,

And a hush with the setting moon.

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 wherever a March-wind sighs

He sets the jewel-print of your feet

In violets as 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-blossoms 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 sigh'd for the dawn and thee.

"Maud"
(1855)
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
(1809-1892)
Poet Laureate of Victorian England