Poems by George Meredith Volume I Part 31

There is a rose in the garden; My child, you are his, and the ring is worn: And the bird sings over the roses.

Tall Margaret sighed and loosened a tress: There is a rose in the garden; Poor comfort she had of her comeliness And the bird sings over the roses.

My mother will sink if this thing be said: There is a rose in the garden; That my first betrothed came thrice to my bed; And the bird sings over the roses.

He died on my shoulder the third cold night: There is a rose in the garden; I dragged his body all through the moonlight: And the bird sings over the roses.

But when I came by my father's door: There is a rose in the garden; I fell in a lump on the stiff dead floor: And the bird sings over the roses.

O neither to heaven, nor yet to h.e.l.l: There is a rose in the garden; Could I follow the lover I loved so well!

And the bird sings over the roses.

III

The bridesmaids slept in their chambers apart: There is a rose that's ready; Tall Margaret walked with her thumping heart: There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

The frill of her nightgown below the left breast: There is a rose that's ready; Had fall'n like a cloud of the moonlighted West: There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

But where the West-cloud breaks to a star: There is a rose that's ready; Pale Margaret's breast showed a winding scar: There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

O few are the brides with such a sign!

There is a rose that's ready; Though I went mad the fault was mine: There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

I must speak to him under this roof to-night: There is a rose that's ready; I shall burn to death if I speak in the light: There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

O my breast! I must strike you a bloodier wound: There is a rose that's ready; Than when I scored you red and swooned: There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

I will stab my honour under his eye: There is a rose that's ready; Though I bleed to the death, I shall let out the lie: There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

O happy my bridesmaids! white sleep is with you!

There is a rose that's ready; Had he chosen among you he might sleep too!

There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

O happy my bridesmaids! your b.r.e.a.s.t.s are clean: There is a rose that's ready; You carry no mark of what has been!

There's a rose that's ready for clipping.

IV

An hour before the chilly beam: Red rose and white in the garden; The bridegroom started out of a dream: And the bird sings over the roses.

He went to the door, and there espied: Red rose and white in the garden; The figure of his silent bride: And the bird sings over the roses.

He went to the door, and let her in: Red rose and white in the garden; Whiter looked she than a child of sin: And the bird sings over the roses.

She looked so white, she looked so sweet: Red rose and white in the garden; She looked so pure he fell at her feet: And the bird sings over the roses.

He fell at her feet with love and awe: Red rose and white in the garden; A stainless body of light he saw: And the bird sings over the roses.

O Margaret, say you are not of the dead!

Red rose and white in the garden; My bride! by the angels at night are you led?

And the bird sings over the roses.

I am not led by the angels about: Red rose and white in the garden; But I have a devil within to let out: And the bird sings over the roses.

O Margaret! my bride and saint!

Red rose and white in the garden; There is on you no earthly taint: And the bird sings over the roses.

I am no saint, and no bride can I be: Red rose and while in the garden; Until I have opened my bosom to thee: And the bird sings over the roses.

To catch at her heart she laid one hand: Red rose and white in the garden; She told the tale where she did stand: And the bird sings over the roses.

She stood before him pale and tall: Red rose and white in the garden; Her eyes between his, she told him all: And the bird sings over the roses.

She saw how her body grow freckled and foul: Red rose and white in the garden; She heard from the woods the hooting owl: And the bird sings over the roses.

With never a quiver her mouth did speak: Red rose and white in the garden; O when she had done she stood so meek!

And the bird sings over the roses.

The bridegroom stamped and called her vile: Red rose and white in the garden; He did but waken a little smile: And the bird sings over the roses.

The bridegroom raged and called her foul: Red rose and white in the garden; She heard from the woods the hooting owl: And the bird sings over the roses.

He muttered a name full bitter and sore: Red rose and white in the garden; She fell in a lump on the still dead floor: And the bird sings over the roses.

O great was the wonder, and loud the wail: Red rose and white in the garden; When through the household flew the tale: And the bird sings over the roses.

The old grey mother she dressed the bier: Red rose and white in the garden; With a shivering chin and never a tear: And the bird sings over the roses.

O had you but done as I bade you, my child!

Red rose and white in the garden; You would not have died and been reviled: And the bird sings over the roses.

The bridegroom he hung at midnight by the bier: Red rose and white in the garden; He eyed the white girl thro' a dazzling tear: And the bird sings over the roses.

O had you been false as the women who stray: Red rose and white in the garden; You would not be now with the Angels of Day!

And the bird sings over the roses.

MARIAN

I

She can be as wise as we, And wiser when she wishes; She can knit with cunning wit, And dress the homely dishes.

She can flourish staff or pen, And deal a wound that lingers; She can talk the talk of men, And touch with thrilling fingers.

II