Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . heodolind, where we slept; Or hardly slept, but watchd awakeA cypress in the moonlight shake, The moonlight touching oer a terraceOne tall Agave above the lake. What more ? we took our last adieu,And up the snowy Splugen drew, But ere we reachd the highest summitI pluckd a daisy, I gave it you. It told of England then to me,And now it tells of Italy. O love, we two shall go no longerTo lands of summer across the sea ; So dear a life your arms enfoldWhose crying is a cry for gold : Yet here to-night in this dark ill and weary, alone and cold, I f
Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . heodolind, where we slept; Or hardly slept, but watchd awakeA cypress in the moonlight shake, The moonlight touching oer a terraceOne tall Agave above the lake. What more ? we took our last adieu,And up the snowy Splugen drew, But ere we reachd the highest summitI pluckd a daisy, I gave it you. It told of England then to me,And now it tells of Italy. O love, we two shall go no longerTo lands of summer across the sea ; So dear a life your arms enfoldWhose crying is a cry for gold : Yet here to-night in this dark ill and weary, alone and cold, I found, tho* crushd to hard and nurseling of another sky Still in the little book you lent where you tenderly laid it by : The Daisy. 353 And I forgot the clouded Forth, The gloom that saddens Heaven and Earth The bitter east, the misty summerAnd gray metropolis of the North. Perchance, to lull the throbs of , to charm a vacant brain, Perchance, to dream you still beside fancy fled to the South TO THE REV. F. D. MAURICE. JANUARY, 1854. Come, when no graver cares employ,Godfather, come and see your boy, Your presence will be sun in winter,Making the little one leap for joy. For, being of that honest few, Who give the Fiend himself his due. Should eighty-thousand college-councilsThunder Anathema, friend, at you ; Should all our churchmen foam in spiteAt you, so careful of the right. Yet one lay-hearth would give you welcome(Take it and come) to the Isle of Wight; Where, far from noise and smoke of town,I watch the twilight falling brown All round a careless-orderd gardenClose to the ridge of a noble down. Youll have no scandal while you dine,But honest talk and wholesome wine. And only hear the magpie gossipGarrulous under a roof of pine: (354) To the Rev. F. D. Maurice. 355 For groves of pine on either hand,To break the blast of winter, stand ; And further on, the hoary ChannelTumbles a billow on chalk and sand ; Where, if below the milk
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