. The universal anthology ; a collection of the best literature, ancient, mediaeval and modern, with biographical and explanatory notes . his otherworks may be mentioned: Idylls of the King, 1859; Enoch Ardenand The Holy Grail, 1869; Queen Mary, 1875; Harold, 1876 ; TheCup, 1884; Tiresias, 1885; Locksley Hall Sixty Years After, 1886;The Foresters and The Death of CEnone, 1892.] 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. ii. For a breeze of m
. The universal anthology ; a collection of the best literature, ancient, mediaeval and modern, with biographical and explanatory notes . his otherworks may be mentioned: Idylls of the King, 1859; Enoch Ardenand The Holy Grail, 1869; Queen Mary, 1875; Harold, 1876 ; TheCup, 1884; Tiresias, 1885; Locksley Hall Sixty Years After, 1886;The Foresters and The Death of CEnone, 1892.] 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. ii. For a breeze of morning moves,And the planet of Love is on high. Beginning to faint in the light that she lovesOn a bed of daifodil sky, To faint in the light of the sun she loves,To faint in his light, and to die. III. 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. IV. I said to the lily, There is but oneWith whom she has heart to be gay. Herb Gathering From the etching by F. M. Reganay. COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD. 343 Wlien will the dancers leave her alone ? She is weary of dance and 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 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. VI. 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 fallFrom the lake to the meadow and on to the wood, Our wood, that is dearer than all; VII. From the meadow your walks have left so sweetThat whenever a March wind sighs He sets the jewel print of your feetIn violets blue as your eyes, To the woody hollows in which we
Size: 1235px × 2023px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookautho, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectliterature
