Come into the garden, Maud

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Alfred Lord Tennyson portrait

1809 to 1892

Poem Image

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 roses 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.

         *       *       *

    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.

Comments

No comments yet. Be the first to comment!

Want to join the discussion? Reopen or create a unique username to comment. No personal details required!

Poet portrait