File:The Cambridge book of poetry and song (1882) (14593802717).jpg

Identifier: cambridgebookofp00rog (find matches)
Title: The Cambridge book of poetry and song
Year: 1882 (1880s)
Authors: Rogé, Mme. Charlotte Fiske (Bates) 1838- ed. (from old catalog)
Subjects: English poetry American poetry
Publisher: New York, T. Y. Crowell & co
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation

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dancing in tune;Till a silence fell with the wakingbird,And a hush with the setting moon. I said to the lily, There is but oneWith whom she has heart to begay.When will the dancers leave heralone ?She is weary of dance and play.Now half to the setting inoon aregone.And half to the rising day;Low on the sand and loud on thestoneThe last wheel echoes away. I said to the rose, The brief nightgoesIn babble and revel and wine.O young lord-lover, what sighs arethose.For one that will never be thine ?But mine, but nune, so I sware tothe rose, Forever and ever, mine. And the soul of the rose went intomy blood,As the nuisic clashed in the hall;And long by the garden lake I stood. For I iieard your rivulet fallFrom the lake to the meadow and onto the wood,Our wood, that is dearer than all; From the meadow your walks haveleft so sweetThat whenever a March wind sighsHe sets the jewel-print of your feet, In violets blue as your eyes,To the woody hollows in which wemeetAnd the valleys of Paradise.
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COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD. Page 580. TENNYSON. 581 The slender acacia would not shake One long milk-bloom on the tiee;The white lake-blossom fell into thelake, As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;But the rose was awake all night foryovu sake, Knowing your promise to me;The lilies and roses were all awake. They sighed for the dawn and thee. Queen rose of the rosebud garden ofgirls.Come hither, the dances are done.In gloss of satin and glimmer ofpearls.Queen lily and rose in one;Shine out, little head, sunning overwith curls,To the flowers, and be their sun. 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, sheis near;And th« white rose weeps, She islate;The larkspur listens, I hear, Ihear;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, AVere it earth in an earthy bed.My dust would hear her, an

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