Elizabeth
Elizabeth, alack, Elizabeth!
Your lovely lilies blow,
Slim, love, still, love, beside the echoing stair.
The bees have found them out. Row after row
Your pinks, those little blossoms with a breath
Blown from the east, and out the spice-trees there,
Nod up the paths; and roses white as death,
And roses red as love, grow everywhere;
For June is at the door.
Alack, alack, alack, Elizabeth!
Sweeter than June, why do you come no more?
Your lovely lilies blow,
Slim, love, still, love, beside the echoing stair.
The bees have found them out. Row after row
Your pinks, those little blossoms with a breath
Blown from the east, and out the spice-trees there,
Nod up the paths; and roses white as death,
And roses red as love, grow everywhere;
For June is at the door.
Alack, alack, alack, Elizabeth!
Sweeter than June, why do you come no more?
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