||Now Sleeps The Crimson Petal
||Alfred Lord Tennyson
|Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892), was not well received when he was alive but typically found greater favour when he was dead. Regarded as the chief representative of the Victorian age in poetry, he became Poet Laureate in 1850.
|Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;
Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font;
The firefly wakens, waken thou with me.
Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.
Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars,
And all thy heart lies open unto me.
Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
A shining furrow, as thy thoughts, in me.
Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,
And slips into the bosom of the lake.
So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me.
Other poems by Alfred Tennyson