ArchivedLove
Poems

She is coming, my own, my sweet;
...Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
...Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
...Had I lain for a century dead,
Would start and tremble under her feet,
...And blossom in purple and red.

.....from Song From Maud by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-92)