There has fallen a splendid tear...

[thestorygirl]

It is Alfred, Lord Tennyson's birthday.  Three months ago I stood upon his grave and murmured the song from Maud, and wept and let the tears splash the marble.  It was wonderfully maudlin.  But the tears were sincere; they fell as I quoted the last two stanzas:

There has fallen a splendid tear
From the passion-flower at the gate;
She is coming, my

Comments

[soredtome]

I still remember reading Maud in the car that one day. What exactly were we doing? I remember looking for Cold Comfort Farm and picking flowers from our rental property, but I can't remember what the flowers were for or what we ended in doing. At any rate,

Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, Night, has flown.
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone.
And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad
And the musk of the roses blown.

For a breeze of morning moves,
And the planet of love is on high,
Beginning to faint in the light that she loves
On a bed of daffodil sky.
To faint in the light of the sun she loves
To faint in his light and to die.

[thestorygirl]

The flowers were for candle-making, I believe. Just reading those stanzas I can smell the lavender and sweet grass. The goldenest day of the whole Golden Summer. Sigh. Has it really been so long?

It is infinitely encouraging to me that life has only gotten lovelier since that day. As each glory passes away, a new one is born. Memories to savour and new moments to immortalise.

Let's not ever grow up.

[soredtome]

Ah yes...the penny candles. How could I ever forget? Shame, Lily.

The soap-making day was also lovely.