A Madrigal

The lily-bells ring underground,         Their music small I hear     When globes of dew that shine pearl round         Hang in the cowslip's ear     And all the summer blooms and sprays         Are sheathed from the sun,     And yet I feel in many ways         Their living pulses run.     The crowning rose of summer time         Lies folded on its stem,     Its bright urn holds no honey-wine,         Its brow no diadem,     And yet my soul is inly thrilled,         As if I stood anear     Some legal presence unrevealed,         The queen of all the year.     Oh Rose, dear Rose! the mist and dew         Uprising from the lake,     And sunshine glancing warmly through,         Have kissed the flowers awake--     The orchard blooms are dropping balm,         The tulip's gorgeous cup     More slender than a desert palm         It's chalice lifteth up.     The birds are mated in the trees,         The wan stars burn and pale--     Oh Rose, come forth!--upon the breeze         I hear the nightingale     Unfold the crimson waves that lie         In darkness rosy dim,     And swing thy fragrant censer high,         Oh royal Rose for him!     The hyacinths are in the fields         With purple splendours pale     Their sweet bells ring responsive peals         To every passing gale     And violets bending in the grass         Do hide their glowing eyes,     When those enchanting voices pass,         Like airs from Paradise.     We crowned our blushing Queen of May         Long since, with dance and tune,     But the merry world of yesterday         Is lapsing into June--     Thou art not here,--we look in vain--         Oh Rose arise, appear!--     Resume thine emerald throne, and reign         The queen of all the year!