Wednesday, July 17, 2013

An Alfred, Lord Tennyson Poem

From "Maud" (Part I, XXII, 10)

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."


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